


Affliction

by MiniLop



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor McGenji, No dubious consent, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, minor Reaper76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 59,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniLop/pseuds/MiniLop
Summary: Gabriel Reyes, seemingly on a whim, decides to take a young Jesse McCree under the watchful eye of Blackwatch, for better or for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory Author's note to start us off
> 
> This story does contain Reaper76 and McGenji but only as minor rolls.
> 
> While Jesse is underage there will be absolutely no inappropriate relationships with any members of the OW cast. Consent is sexy, folks.
> 
> Um, I think that's it! I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Apologies for grammatical errors or typos, no BETA

            Thunder rumbled ominously outside of the window, heavy rain beating against the thick panes of glass and riveting downwards, steady and constant. A quick flash of white light illuminated a large barren office, throwing pale luminescence across a dark figure bent over a large desk, lost in thought and stacks of paper work. The metallic nametag adorning the polished oak desk glinted a pale gold in the wake of the lightening, the name _Commander G. Reyes_ eerily glowing fluorescent in the otherwise dim room, only to fade away as a crack of thunder rumbled throughout the bleak office. Said officer leaned back in his large chair, the varnished leather stretching in protest as his vast weight was dispersed throughout the seat, the only other sound besides the torrent of rain.

            Reyes picked up an ominously thick folder from off of his desk, multitudes of tabs and sticky notes protruding every which way out of the thick stack of papers contained within. The front of the folder was graced with only a single word, large and deep crimson, _Confidential._ Heaving a great sigh that expanded his whole chest, the Commander reached over and clicked on his desk lamp before blearily glancing behind him at his mounted clock, the pale green numbers reading 2:47 AM. A humorless laugh escaped Reyes’ lips as he turned his attention back to the folder in his grasp, his leather clad gloves squeezing just a bit too hard out of exhaustion and frustration, causing the pages to crinkle slightly. He really did not want to do this assignment. Then again there was a lot of shit Commander Reyes didn’t want to do, but that never seemed to faction into the equation. Turning the first page, his deep brown eyes began scanning the Mission Synopsis…starting with his own name under the position of Blackwatch Strike Commander; Gabriel Reyes. He continued scanning the first few pages, his eyes being able to perceive and understand information faster than the average human, he supposed he could thank his time spent in the Soldier Enhancement Program for that. His division had been working on this case for years, months upon months of stakeouts, agents disappearing, his intelligence team coming up cold on leads after countless hours of tireless work. All of these factors contributed to the irritatingly thick stack of papers in his hands and the urgency to see the mission through to the end.

            Overwatch, international self declared protector of the world, had been tasked by the United Nations with the elimination of Deadlock, a ruthless gang burrowed deep in the South West of the United States, most well known for smuggling military grade weaponry and their very literal iteration of “Ride or Die”. Overwatch, ever the shining beacon of decency and hope, would never tarnish their royal blue reputation by actually being the ones to go toe to toe with the gang, no. They left that to their attack dog, their dirty little secret, a task force so enigmatic that even the U.N. didn’t fully know the reach that they had. They left that to Blackwatch, and in turn, to Gabriel Reyes.

            Rubbing his temples tiredly, Reyes continued looking through the case file so he could begin to formulate a strike. After years of grinding, Blackwatch had finally pinpointed the exact location of the Deadlock base, their warehouse hidden deep in the canyons of Sante Fe, New Mexico in a hell hole colloquially known as Deadlock Gorge. Reyes couldn’t help but scoff at that, the dry sound barely heard over the steady sound of rainfall outside his dark office window.

            _Deadlock Gorge…how incredibly original,_ Reyes thought to himself dryly, irritated that his team couldn’t verify the information sooner. They had tried though, and lost many agents along the way. Reyes had attempted to have his agents infiltrate the gang from the inside more than a year ago but his agents never made it back. Apparently Deadlock didn’t fuck around when it came to new members and preferred torture and murder as opposed to simply hazing. He wasn’t sure if Deadlock somehow found out that his agents were actually undercover and murdered them on the spot or if their hazing tactics were just that deadly, either way, his recruits perished down in those heat scorched deserts, never returning back to him. Now, though. Now the tables had turned. Reyes had changed tactics when it came to infiltrating, instead of sending his recruits to the gang, he had made the game come to him. Reyes had stationed one lonely agent down in New Mexico, posed as a waitress, and she fed him all the information he needed to know from the thugs that came to the diner she served in. Six grueling months she had been undercover, her Blackwatch training her only defense, and she had made it back to Reyes alive. Even better, she had made it back alive with valuable information. Blackwatch now knew who several of the higher ups in the gang were, had a general sense of where they received the majority of their weapons, they had even found out where the members slept. Commander Reyes had everything he needed to launch a strike, yet, he found himself reluctant, some strange itch in the back of his mind that he didn’t want to acknowledge, burrowing itself into his brain, not allowing him to concentrate.

            Sighing, Reyes rested his head on his laced fingers, shoulders drooping as he began to formulate plans on how his strike force would eliminate the gang…it just didn’t seem right though. Reyes had been there, years ago during the Omnic Crisis, he had been fighting in the streets and remembered being told that his militia was running low on ammo, whole army supply bleeding dry as the robots stopped working in the factories, stopped providing the army with the provisions they needed. How many of his fellow soldiers were torn to shreds because they didn’t have another clip to load, another gun to pull? They were getting slaughtered…then Deadlock had made the scene. Already proficient in smuggling the deadly weaponry needed, Deadlock extended their hand to Overwatch, offered their less than moral services for a more than desirable outcome. The U.N. hadn’t given a shit that the weapons were stolen then, they just knew that the Omnics were being riddled with bullets again and supplied the cash, asking no questions. Not too many people knew, let alone admitted, that Deadlock had played a pivotal role in the survival of the human race in the Omnic crisis. Perhaps that was why this mission weighed so heavily on Reyes’ mind, why he couldn’t bring himself to feel satisfied that they had finally accomplished something regarding the ruthless gang. He remembered being there in those war torn streets, out of bullets and out of hope. It just…seemed so fucking hypocritical. But this was his job, his burden to bare, and bare it he would.

            Hours later, the sun just barely peaking over the city horizon, its pink rays illuminating the rivets of rainwater that trickled down the windows from the night’s storm, Reyes finished his strategy, the last of his mental energy draining form his body. After hours of simulating and strategizing, he finally felt like he had a solid, workable plan. It was going to be a bloodbath, that was just an indisputable fact. Overwatch had been ordered to _eliminate_ the gang, to scour them from the red desert, so that America could pretend like they were the pristine country they fooled themselves into thinking they once were. Hypocrites. He was a hypocrite. Turning his bloodshot eyes to the window as the rosy rays of the sun began illuminating his office, Reyes simply sat there in heavy silence, feeling the sunrise higher and higher over his body, casting part of his face in warm pink, the other in dark shadow. Closing his eyes, Reyes tipped his head back and hungered for the feeling of a cigarette between his lips, yearning the heady feeling of thick smoke in his lungs as his black beanie slipping off the crown of his skull and fell to the floor, releasing his messy tress of dark curls hidden beneath. Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers through them, stopping to tangle them into a gloved fist as he pulled his head back further, the physical pain in his scalp helping to distract him from the headache begging to pool behind his bloodshot eyes. All that was left was to confirm his attack plans with the Strike Commander. At the thought, Reyes hissed and tipped back down, elbows thudding heavily on his desk as he dropped his head again. He was really in no mood to deal with Jack fucking Morrison…but Reyes had to do a lot of shit he didn’t want to…this was no exception.

           

 

 

The transports finally landed just 5 miles from the heart of Deadlock Gorge, near the diner where Reyes’ agent had been stationed. Reyes stepped out onto the ship’s ramp way before the ship even touched the earth, looking out onto the unforgiving terrain of the gorge that was vastly laid out before him. Even at night, hot dry wind whipped at his skin, sending red sand skittering across his boots and into the open entry bay of the ship, some of the dry soil lodging itself in the course curls of his facial hair, dancing across his lips as the air brushed past him. His eyes scanned the dark horizon, taking in the harsh landscape canopied by an endless starry sky and encased in ceaseless rocky earth. The sky was so vast and empty, free from any purveying streetlights or the occasional interruption by skyscraper that Reyes felt like he could see every glinting star in the solar system, their twinkling almost seeming surreal compared to the smoggy cities he was usually stationed in. They had landed on a fairly high peak overlooking the vast canyon, the land stretching out as far as the eye could see, seeming to warp at the edges of his peripheral, allowing Reyes to see the very curve of the Earth from his vantage point up in the sky. It was a lot deeper than Reyes had initially pictured, a dark river cutting miles and miles through red rocky mountains, winding in and out of sight until it thinned into nothingness across the horizon. He could see a bridge built for cargo trains running high above the deep cavernous pit of the gorge, cutting straight through the mountains and disappearing deep into the rocks. A sun bleached and beaten road wound through out the canyon, starting at the begrimed diner and leading to what looked like a derelict gas station, the neon signs glowing dimly in the dark. The only other signs of civilization were old tourism billboards, long abandoned and smattered with graffiti. Reyes narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of a small tunnel, just behind the gas station, barred by steely doors, the metal glinting in the pale starlight. Beyond that small outlet, that was where Deadlock was.

Reyes stoically turned and began surveying his troops as they began to set up a base camp, the agents already bustling with bags and cargo boxes behind him. Barricades were being built and a few tactical tents were being pitched as the stars languidly turned overhead. They didn’t have a lot of time to set up before Deadlock sensed their presence. They needed to be prepared by daybreak. Sniffing, he began making his way to the commander’s tent, heavy boots thudding into the packed, dry dirt, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Lifting the heavy flap of the tent Gabe did his best now to scowl as he was met with the back of the Strike Commander himself, Jack fucking Morrison.

Instead of immediately engaging with Jack, Gabe veered right and met eyes with Overwatch’s most talented sniper, Ana Amari. A young Egyptian woman with a tattoo of protection under her eye, she looked almost regal in her long blue trench coat covered by her silky black hair. Her kill record was unlike anything the world had ever seen, and they were always quick, always clean. As well as being the world’s deadliest sniper and a founder of Overwatch, she was also one of Gabe’s oldest friends. Something like a smile ghosted his lips as he approached her from across the war table.

“Gabriel, it is nice to see you again,” she regarded him coolly, cradling her rifle to her chest, fingers languidly tracing the muzzle with a cleaning cloth as she eyed him from beneath her thick lashes.

“Mm, you know running Blackwatch keeps me busy,” Gabe replied, trying and failing to keep a twinge of bitterness from his voice as he took his seat, the chair groaning with protest. Ana simply gave a rise of her eyebrow and a small downward quirk of her lips. She knew how resentful Gabe was over being passed over as Strike Commander and how very aware he was that he was not an agent of Overwatch. Not really, anyways. Blackwatch was its own beast. Sighing, Ana tucked a long lock of her black hair behind her ear, slinging her rifle over her shoulder so that it hung off the back of her chair.

“I know Gabriel…and I am sorry for that,” she offered softly. They both knew she wasn’t apologizing for how busy he was.

“What’s done is done. So, we need to discuss what’s going to happen once that god forsaken sun comes up,” Gabe replied, gruffly changing the subject. No use getting worked up over the past. That wouldn’t help him get through the day.

As Gabe and Ana discussed their plans looking over the holo table, a familiar and unwanted presence moved behind his back, a stir of emotions erupting in the pit of Reye’s stomach that he immediately set about quelling. Couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Jack,” Reyes regarded the man over his shoulder coolly, “What are you doing at a place like this? Don’t you know that it’s dangerous here? Or are you just here for the photo op once Blackwatch cleans up the mess?”

Jack was a tall man, bulky too, arms and legs swollen with thick muscles and decorated in scars from the omnic crisis. He wore his usual long royal blue trench coat and combat boots, and an unusual scowl on his face. Often regarded as Overwatch’s “Golden Boy” it was clear why the public loved Jack. Smooth pale skin and chiseled features carved his face into an image of handsome American ideology. His golden blond hair was cropped short atop his head, his boyish features hiding a medically enhanced body, capable of crushing the average man’s skull with little effort. He had an inviting smile and piercing blue eyes peaking out from beneath golden lashes, the light smattering of freckles across the apex of his cheekbones perfecting the picture of manifest excellence, the face of Overwatch and hero of the Omnic Crisis. It turned Gabe’s stomach. Somewhere, long ago, Jack made Reyes stir in another way, when screeching metal and whistling bullets where all Reye’s could hear, Jack had been there for him. They had been there for each other…but that was years, seemingly lifetimes, ago. Reyes swiftly brushed away warm memories of shared smiles, secret rendezvouses, and intimate touches. Things were different now.

“Gabe, please, don’t start this,” Jack ground out, blue eyes looking anywhere but Gabe’s face. “I’m here to oversee the extraction of Deadlock…UN orders.”

Gabe couldn’t help the snort he gave, rolling his eyes and focusing back on the holo table, refusing to conversate. He didn’t need Overwatch babysitting his operations and he certainly didn’t need Jack fucking Morrison. They finished their tactical planning just as the sun began peaking over the high cliffs of the gulch, illuminating the red land in a shimmering haze of light and heat. That sunrise marked the beginning of end for Deadlock.

……………………………….

            Sweat poured down Gabe’s body, pooling in the small of his back as his boots thundered against the worn asphalt. He was covered in dirt, sand, blood and gunpowder, feeling the grit and grime shift against him with every movement, every cock of his gun causing a ripple throughout his body, the dirt and sweat sliding against his skin. The mission was going just as messily as he was afraid it would go. They struck the living quarters of Deadlock just as the sun peaked the gorge cliffs, throwing the entire canyon into chaos. Screams and gunfire filled the air, with the occasional staccato of explosions breaking up the white noise of death. They had tried to offer a cease-fire if Deadlock surrendered, just gave themselves up to the law. A fool’s errand, Gabe had said. He had been right. Soon after they had offered up surrendering terms a rocket blast had landed on the train tracks overhead, just as a passing railcar was making its way across the canyon. Several train cars derailed as the bridge collapsed, throwing metal, dust, and sparks in every direction as they crashed onto the ground below, erupting into a plume of earth and smoke. Bodies littered the hot asphalt outside of the Deadlock warehouse, far too many of those being Gabe’s agents. It made his blood run hot under his skin, heart thundering in his ribcage with adrenaline and fury.

            Deadlock was armed to the teeth, he could barley see the ground for all the ammunition rounds that littered it. Several times Reyes had to catch himself from falling as his boots rolled over some terribly oversized bullet casing, the large glinting objects shinning too brightly in his eyes as he dodged endless enemy fire. Gabe ground his jaw as he crouched behind some splintered doorway of an abandoned building, reloading his shotguns meticulously, ignoring the way all his joints were slick beneath his black combat gear. His tongue was thick in his mouth as he licked his cracked lips, glancing to the side to look at the huge steel doors that separated him from the weapons cache inside the Deadlock base.

            Blackwatch had managed to drive the gang back into the recesses of their canyon after three hours or so of gunfire, most of the remaining members were holed up in the barricaded building, no doubt making a final stand. Any other members on the outside were either dead or in custody, being held in the prison transport ship back near base camp. There were only three members that had been arrested as far as Gabe new.

            Wiping the copious amounts of sweat from the top of his scarred brow, Gabe held a finger to his ear, pressing the communication device planted there, ignoring the grit of the sand that had lodged itself into his every orifice.

            “I’m outside the base with my team, we have them cornered. There is no telling what’s inside the building. I need my blast ops on that door, we can’t let them gain an advantage,” Gabe ground out into his comm, eyes sweeping over his team behind his back. They were all highly trained operatives, staring stone-faced back at their commander, all of them covered in blood or dirt or some morbid combination of the two. They were ready to do or die. Good.

            Static crackled over his comm before a voice chimed in, fast and a bit out of breath, “Commander, we’ve planted C4 outside the door, should be enough to blast it open, just waiting on your or-“ suddenly a shot rang out through the comm and his operative was silenced.

            “Agent, status, now,” Gabe barked, not really sure why he was bothering, he heard the shot.

            Silence.

            “Gabriel, he’s down. There is a shooter sniping your agents, he’s utilizing a tunnel system in the rocks” he heard Ana report, her voice a deadly calm. Ana was nesting high up in the canyon, sniping where she could, watching Gabe’s back. Her cybernetic eye let her see six times better than the average human; she barely even needed a scope as she meticulously picked off Deadlock members from afar.

            “Ana,” Gabe bit out between clenched teeth, “can you shoot the fuse to the C4? I want that fucking door opened.”

            He could hear the smile in her voice over the crackling static of the comm, “Of course, Gabriel.” A second later and a huge blast echoed throughout the canyon, throwing shrapnel in every direction, red dust erupting into the air as the gigantic metal doors were forced open. Gabe threw himself over a couple of his operatives, shielding them from the debris, feeling steel and rock ricocheting of the back of his tac vest as the explosion reverberated all around them. After the blast finished ringing in his ears, Gabe sat up and looked at his recruits. They all held their weapons close, waiting on orders.

            “Alright, we are getting in there then we are getting the fuck out. We don’t know what those Deadlock bastards have in that warehouse but we need to be prepared. Stealth is of the upmost importance, I want to see you all on that transport ship back home, understood?” Gabe barked, teeth bared at his agents, eyes bright with adrenaline. A resounding “Yes sir!” echoed out and Gabe began moving, leading his team through the clouds of dust and into the building, dodging the occasional body of a gang member that had been too close to the blast at the time of impact. As they entered the charred steel doorway, Gabe reached for his comm again.

            “Ana, if you get eyes on that damn sniper, give me confirmation. I want that little bastard on the floor,” he growled, voice low and visceral.

            “Understood.”

With that, Gabe unholstered his shotguns from the thick straps around his thighs and pressed his back to a cargo case. It was no doubt filled to the brim with weaponry, Deadlock was known to carry artilleries as heavy as nukes. He had to be careful, he didn’t want to get his whole team blown to kingdom come. He signaled to some of his agents to go left to a small hallway to clear it out with swift and silent motions of his hands, and then for a few to go right. Gabe was going directly down the middle of the warehouse.

“Clearing the area,” he muttered calmly into his comm, rolling his shoulders and evening his breathing as his fingers slid onto the triggers of his twin shotguns. He slid out from behind the cargo and was immediately met with several gang members, all of them whipping around with guns at the ready. Gabe’s shotguns rang out, each shot meeting a target. Blood splattered across his gloves, droplets riveting off of his face and into his facial hair, trickling over his bottom lip and copper seeping over his tongue. Gabe didn’t stop. Shot after shot until eight Deadlock lay dead or dying at his feet, the ends of his shotguns covered in visceral bits and pieces of his opponents. Gabe didn’t look at their faces. He began running down the center of the warehouse, boots surprisingly silent after years and years of training, blood roaring in his ears. He heard distant shots ring out, knew it wasn’t from Blackwatch weapons. Some of his agents probably just lost their lives.

He heard footsteps behind him and lurched to the side as an armed figure ran past him, a shot grazing past Gabe’s arm. The butt of his shotgun met the man’s skull, a sick crack ringing out and the man collapsed at his feet, blood pooling beneath his crumpled frame. Breathing heavily through his nose Gabe tuned into his comms, confirming his teams whereabouts. The left and right sides had been cleared of hostiles, all that was left was a room in the back of the warehouse. The last of Deadlock. Gabe began making his way to the final hold up, gloved fingers tightening around the handles of his shotguns, blood slipping in-between the cool metal and the heat of his fingers.

“Commander, my team and I are going in. We have six agents and it seems like there are only three hostiles left in the area,” Gabe heard one of his soldiers breathe. Suddenly the sound of a door being busted down rang over the comm, along with gunshots. Gabe started sprinting to the back of the warehouse, feet carrying him to where he heard gunfire and shouts. He heard six rapid fire gunshots then silence through the crackle of his comm. Dread weighed heavily in his stomach as he rounded the corner and through the busted frame of a door, eyes finding his agents. All six of them had a single gunshot wound, two of them right between the eyes. Four of them seemed to have non-fatal shots, but they were still incapacitated, bullets lodged in their kneecaps or ankles. Two Deadlock members lay on the ground, dead, blood still pouring out of their bodies and creeping over the floor. That left one missing. Gabe ground his teeth so hard he could hear them grating.

He knelt down by one of his agents as they weakly called for him, the man extending a trembling hand to his Commander. Slowly, the agent raised a finger and pointed behind Gabe, over his shoulder. Turning quickly, Gabe saw that they were pointing to a ventilation grate, two bloody handprints leading up to the duct, muddy boot prints showing that someone had scrabbled up the walls. That little bastard was trying to escape.

“I need medical, stat. I have agents wounded all throughout the warehouse, get them biotic fields, now,” Gabe spat into his comm as he began sprinting through the halls and back out into the blazing sun, having to close his eyes momentarily at the harsh blinding light.

“Ana, I have one remaining hostile, armed and dangerous. They climbed though an air duct; it must have lead outside somewhere. Find them,” he growled lowly, eyes straining to survey the outside landscape, attempting to see past the haze and dust.

After a few agonizing moments, Ana responded, “I, I think I found him…he’s good, Gabe. I believe he may be our missing sniper. He is hiding behind a sign on the top of that garage, just due west of your position. He just sniped two agents. They’re down, not dead. I can’t get a clear shot behind the sign at this angle. ”

Gabe’s head snapped to the side, eyes rapidly scanning until he found the garage, a wind battered two story building. There was a large neon sign atop the roof, and Gabe could just barely make out a shape hiding behind it. He began marching towards the building, malice and fury lacing each dusty boot step across the cracked and bloodied ground.

“I have visual conformation…I’m taking him out,” Gabe snarled lowly into the comm, dark eyes never straying from the figure even as sweat trickled across his eyelids and trailed down his dust coated lashes.

“Careful, Gabriel,” Ana breathed.

Gabe reached the side of the building and silently began to scale it, boots finding cracks in the bricks, fingers pulling him up over window ledges. Quietly, he reached the top of the building, finally laying his eyes on the hostile as he hauled himself up. He could see their back, a beaten black leather vest with the Deadlock insignia painted across it in cracked white. Jeans that seemed too big rode too low on the kneeling figure, revealing a line of bare skin on the perp’s back, the sandy skin smattered in a collage of green and purple bruising. Gabe could see a couple bumps of their spine and a hip bone jutting out beneath the hostile’s plaid shirt, the fabric stiff and unmoving in the harsh desert winds. Their jeans were ripped at the knees and it looked like there was a bullet wound on the man’s left thigh, the wound slowly oozing out onto the inner length of his leg. A cowboy hat that was a size too big sat atop their head, hiding their visage from Gabe as the hostile swiveled their head to the right at the sound of gunfire. He could see the hostile’s haggard breathing, could hear the erratic thumping of their heart in his ears, even over the howling of the sand riddled winds. A red bandanna was tied across their mouth, obscuring their face from Gabe’s sight.

Gabe slowly planted his feet on the roof and stood, stalking over to the figure, silently taking a single gun from its holster on his thigh and simultaneously cocking it with his blood smeared thumb. He was just a couple paces from the perp now, the neon lights from the sign illuminating the figure in an eerie red glow. The figure looked…small. The hostile must have sensed him because they sucked in a small gasp and whirled around, a revolver aimed right at Gabe’s chest. A shot rang out before he even had time to think and Gabe felt the impact in his tac vest as he tackled the perp, forcing the gun from their hands. He quickly pinned the small figure beneath him, his large thighs on either side of the man’s small torso, hands pinned above his head in one of Gabe’s gloved fists. He could hear the hostiles heart beat thundering in his ears as he panted beneath him, small torso rising against Reye’s thighs.

So this was the bastard that took out so many of his agents. In an act of infuriated curiosity Gabe used his free hand to rip the rep bandana from the figure’s neck, revealing their face to the fluorescent neon light. Gabe sucked in a breath and felt his own heart stop as the figure’s heart rate skyrocketed, chest heaving against Reyes’ legs. They were just a fucking kid.

Long shaggy brown hair matted with blood and dust hung over the kid’s face, his big brown eyes wide with fear and glossed over with unshed tears. One of his eyes had bruising that would probably by a black and swollen in a few hours and there was a large slash across the kid’s neck, as if someone had tried to cut his throat. His lip was spilt and blood trickled down his chin into a sad excuse for facial hair, the neon light from the sign making it take on a bizarre red hue as it joined the rivets of blood descending down his throat. His chest was heaving and a strangled sound of fear slipped past the boy’s cracked lips, slick with spit and blood as he stared up at Reyes, locking eyes with him.

They stared at each other for a few moments before the kid began squirming, a look of pure rage overtaking the look of startled fear as he thrashed beneath Gabe, weakly thrusting up against Reye’s muscled legs in an attempt to buck him off. He tried in vain to break Gabe’s grip but it was like a vice on his wrists, the older man squeezing the bones so hard that he felt them grate between his fingers. Scowling, Gabe raised his fist above his head, red bandana still clutched between his bloodied fingers, and punched the kid square in the jaw, the boy’s head snapping to the side as his body stilled, slipping quickly into unconsciousness. Gabe stood shakily and looked down at his chest where a bullet was lodged directly over his left lung, then stared at the kid between his boots for a moment, mind racing. He glanced over at the boy’s gun and picked it up gingerly, inspecting it closely for some sort of augmentation or advancement. As Reyes closely inspected the gun, turning it over in his hands, realization dawn on him quickly followed by disbelief. It was just an old six-shooter, an antique. A piece of antiquated garbage by anyone’s standards. How in the seven hells had this scrawny gang-banger managed to take down so many of his trained agents with this sorry excuse for a firearm? Not to mention the speed at which he had drew and fired his weapon directly into Gabe’s chest.

He quickly buzzed his comm, “Ana…how good are you at sniping with a pistol? It would be difficult, right?” Gabe asked lowly, dark eyes moving from the gun to the boy back to the gun, disbelief and something like reverence still addling his thoughts.

“Well…it is doable, I’m sure, but it would be…extremely difficult for the average sniper. I could do it, of course,” she finished, a bit smug from wherever she was nesting.

“Of course…” Gabe replied slowly, eyeing the boy again, his small frame outlined in neon red as the sign above them continued to hum. An idea was beginning to form in Gabe’s mind, one he was sure no one but him would like.

“Gabe…you aren’t saying that the hostile took down all those agents with a pistol, are you…?” Ana asked quizedly, her voice laced with disbelief.

“A six shooter,” he replied quietly, the thoughts in his mind becoming clearer as he eyed the Deadlock member at his feet. He heard Ana swear in Arabic, even though he couldn’t fully understand her words, he could hear the angry awe in her voice. After a moment of contemplative silence Ana’s voice chimed again, low and accusing.

“What are you doing, Gabriel?”

Gabe was already in the motion of tying the kid’s wrists together and slinging him over his shoulder unceremoniously, grimacing when he felt blood from the kid’s wounds seep onto his shoulder.

“Taking in an interesting asset,” Gabe replied evenly, jumping down from the building, his enhanced limps barely recognizing the reverberations as his boots slammed down onto the cracked asphalt. The kid gave a soft groan over his shoulder and Gabe couldn’t help but notice that he could feel the boy’s ribs under his gloved fingers as he shifted. He sucked his teeth and slowly headed back to the transport to check on his remaining agents and put his little prisoner on a transport. He arrived just in time to see Jack posing for a Newspaper.

 

 

            “Gabe.”

            “Don’t start, Jack.”

            Jack and Gabe stood together outside of an interrogation room, staring at the kid through a one-way mirror, the two Commanders both quietly stewing. Ana stood behind them and softly tutted.

            “What information could this brat have that we need, Gabe? I don’t understand why we just don’t ship him to super max. He’s a murderer,” Jack hissed, gesturing towards the mirror at the kid who sat in the interrogation chair, casually glancing around the barren room and fiddling with his cuffs. Gabe stood back for a moment with his arms crossed, face contemplative.

            “I think I want him on my team,” he spoke finally, voice even. Jack baulked. Ana was clearly enjoying herself; Gabe could hear her heartbeat give a little staccato as she muffled a laugh at Jack’s reaction. Jack turned and pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation rolling off of him in waves.

            “Gabe…you have lots of… _radical_ ideas, but this? This is lunacy. As Strike Commander I can’t allow this.”

Gabe had to snort at that. He lulled his head to the left, side eyeing Jack with his arms still crossed.

            “Can’t allow it?” he said flatly. “You don’t even want to know why I want him?” he asked smoothly, hoping to pique Jack’s interest. A muscle worked in Jack’s jaw as he mulled it over, blue eyes glancing from Gabe’s determined face to the kid. Gabe was about to continue when Ana beat him to it.

            “He is an incredible shot, Jack. Might be worth it. Give him a chance,” she cooed, her dark gaze focused on the subject behind the mirror _._

            Jack narrowed his eyes at Ana, then whipped his head over to meet Gabe’s gaze. He looked at the kid and snarled, then back to Gabe.

            “Alright, let’s just see how this goes then,” he bit out, obviously unenthused. “I’ll start the interrogation. Let’s see how your rabid little gang banger reacts.” Jack sneered as he snatched the boy’s files from an agent that had just entered the room then briskly opened the interrogation room door. Gabe followed behind and let his face slip into a mask of placid intimidation. The heavy door slammed behind him with a bang, locking them inside with the Deadlock brat.

            The kid was looking somehow worse for wear than when Gabe had first seen him on the garage roof, bathed in red neon. A huge yellowing bruise was blossoming across his cheek, that was Gabe’s work, and dirt and blood still matted his hair and scabbed around his neck. Every inch of him was covered in a coppery sheen of red dirt, save for a couple tear tracks down his cheeks that the boy had tried and failed to wipe away, which was probably difficult to do with your hands cuffed. His eyes were slightly red rimmed, especially his left eye, where the skin was beginning to swell and turn purple. A bandage was wrapped around his thigh and a spot of blood could be seen seeping through, already turning a ruddy brown. He looked like a fucking wreck.

            Jack’s nose twitched, probably smelling what Gabe was smelling: blood, sweat, dirt, and gunpowder, before he pulled a chair out from the small metal table and sat down across from the kid. Jack let the boy’s file fall onto the table, and sat back.

            Now Gabe was expecting a lot of reactions out of the boy. Angry cursing, silence, maybe spitting. What he wasn’t expecting was what actually came out of the boy’s mouth.

“Mm, now you’re _way_ too pretty to be my lawyer. What’re you doin’ talkin’ to a low life like me, darlin’? ” the kid drawled, his voice dripping with a thick southern accent as the words tumbled out of his blood slicked lips. He was all smiles, flashing his teeth and looking at Jack from beneath his thick, dust covered lashes.

For the second time in two minutes, Jack Morrison baulked. It took a lot of effort on Gabe’s part not to snort as Jack sat there stunned while the kid licked some of the blood from his lips suggestively, eyes still locked on the Strike Commander as he coated the tip of his tongue in the shiny red substance. Jack blinked a couple times then recovered, his face slipping back into his “good cop” mode, but Gabe took notice of the slight coloring of his cheeks. The brat noticed too.

“Now, don’t you just light up pretty,” he cooed, leaning back in his chair, all smirk. “I always heard blonds were a lot of fun. What’d’ you say? You gon’ show me a nice time?” the kid finished, his face contorted into a hateful sneer made all the more prevalent by the blood covering the kid’s tongue.

That caused Jack to scowl and he wordlessly opened the boy’s file, scanning through it quickly before setting it back on the table. After a few moments, Jack looked back up to the kid, piercing blue eyes meeting honey brown.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, tilting his chin up in disregard. Gabe huffed a small sigh and focused on the kid, curious as to how he would react.

“Why, you askin’ me out?” he drawled, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, long hair fanning around his bloodied neck. He was clearly not planning on cooperating.

“I’m wondering what to write on the report when I send you to super max,” Jack replied evenly, eyes the color and temperature of ice. The kid gave a little jerk, still staring at the ceiling, otherwise unresponsive. Gabe saw his adams apple bob as he swallowed and his heart rate jumped. He knew Jack saw it too.

“Ah, does that not sound like a ‘nice time’?” Jake replied snidely, opening his folder back up with a snap. “I already know who you are, you’re only making a bad situation worse by not cooperating,” he said, blue eyes focusing on the files.

Slowly, the kid tilted his head back down, long hair obscuring his face as his figured slouched forward.

“S’ Jesse,” he muttered, the mirth gone from his voice, suddenly sounding very small.

“Jesse what?” Jack egged on, using his calm public speaking voice, all charm. It was bizarre to witness Jack act like this, Gabe couldn’t help but think. He was used to Jack screaming in his face.

The kid took a sharp breath through his nose and muttered something under his breath before replying “McCree. Jesse McCree.” He tilted his head back up and had the closest thing Gabe had seen to a “puppy dog” face. What kind of game was this brat playing?

“Mm…” was Jack’s only reply for a moment, seeming to take in the kid, Jesse, for the first time, icy eyes roaming over his face.

“How old are you, Jesse?” he asked smoothly, looking at the boy from beneath his blond eyelashes.

“Nineteen,” he replied evenly, looking over at Gabe for the first time since he had entered the room. The boy’s eyes narrowed and he rolled his tongue subconsciously to the inside of the cheek that Gabe had punched. Gabe couldn’t help but smirk maliciously back at him, earning a glare. Jack seemed to mull over this information for a moment before his eyes narrowed and he squinted at the file.

“This says that you’re seventeen,” Jack said quietly, doing a good job of keeping his voice even.

 _Seventeen? Christ,_ Gabe couldn’t help but think. He would’ve believed the boy was nineteen, kind of wished he was. He really was a minor, which would make him getting into Blackwatch an even bigger obstacle than it already was. Jack seemed to read his mind because he turned to look at Gabe, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth in a grimace. Gabe simply gave a curt nod and Jack sighed, turning back to the boy.

“Any family?” Jack questioned, looking at a page within Jesse’s file, still laying the charm on thick.

“My Mama killed my Daddy when I was real little. Ain’t seen my Mama since I joined Deadlock,” he replied matter o’ factly, like he was telling Jack what color shirt he was wearing, which, in retrospect might be the harder answer, seeing as the fabric was coated with a variety of unappealing substances. Gabe couldn’t help but get hung up on how the kid’s Southern accent made “daddy” sound like “deh-dy”. Gabe had done his damndest to get rid of his Spanish accent; he couldn’t see this kid doing the same.

“How long were you in Deadlock, Jesse?” Jack asked, doing his best to meet the boy’s eyes. The kid seemed to mull it over before finding something on his cuffed hands very interesting.

“Six years, I think,” he muttered, picking at a snag of skin on his wrist under the cuffs. Gabe heard Jack swallow thickly and felt a frown form on his lips. Jack had always been soft, especially with kids. He was a bleeding heart…or at least he used to be. The kid looked back up, all puppy eyes and trembling lips.

“What’s gunna’ happen’ to me? I was just followin’ orders,” he whispered softly, big brown eyes focused on Jack’s blues. Gabe scrunched up his nose at the display, feeling more suspicious by the second. He remembered the look of primal rage on the kid’s face when he was pinned to that roof, remembered the way he didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his chest. This had to be a front.

Apparently Jack didn’t think so.

“I’m sorry all this has happened to you, with you being so young, but my hands are tied. You have a criminal record as long as my arm and you killed Overwatch agents…You’ll be lucky to get life in prison,” Jack finished softly, a pitying look crossing his face. The kid’s head dropped and his shoulders began to shake, his whole body trembling. Jack swallowed thickly and leaned over, like he was about to pat the boy on the shoulder, soothe him a bit. Just as Jack’s face was within range, the kid reeled back and threw both of his cuffed fists forward, landing a solid punch directly to Jack’s jaw. Jack jolted back, more from shock than pain, Gabe was sure, and his stunned expression turned into a ferocious snarl.

Then the kid spat in Jack’s face.

Jack jumped up so fast that his chair screeched against the metal of the floor, toppling over behind him with a thunderous clang. Gabe grimaced and made his way across the room as Jack hauled up the kid by his shirt, holding him a good half a foot in the air.

“You blond bitch, put me the fuck down!” the boy spat, thrashing his long, thin legs uselessly against the older man, whole body shaking with anger. The boy cut his dark eyes over to Gabe and snarled,

“And _you,_ you can kiss my entire ass you mother fuckin-“ Jack hauled him up another few inches, then slammed the boy down on the ground, hard. The kid gasped and made a strangled sound deep in his throat as his back crashed down roughly on the unforgiving floor, a sickening thud echoing throughout the interrogation room. Jack hadn’t been gentle, not in the least. As the kid lie gasping on the floor Jack planted the bottom of his steel-toed boots to the kid’s chest and pressed, bringing his hand up to his face to wipe the blood addled spit from his jaw. Gabe swallowed and hovered behind Jack, his eyes locked on the hiccupping figure thrashing on the ground.

Jack took his gloved fingers and rubbed the offending substance between his fingertips, a barbarous snarl contorting his face into one of quiet rage.

“You just made the worst mistake of your life, boy,” Jack ground out, his boot heel digging harder into the boy’s spasming chest. Gabe walked around so that his boots were on either side of the boy’s head, towering above him. The kid was still gasping and hiccupping from having the wind knocked out of him, fresh tears cutting lines through the dirt and grime on his face as his cuffed hands uselessly scrabbled to pry Jack’s boot from his concaving chest.

“I’ll take it from here,” Gabe murmured, his dark eyes locking with the kid’s, the two having some strange discussion neither of them fully understood. Jack seemed to contemplate Gabe for a moment before digging his boot into the boy’s chest one final time, earning a choked gasp, then whirled around, trench coat whipping behind him as he stalked towards the door. Wrenching the door opened, he turned and addressed Gabe, his face red and eyes hard.

“You will have a tough time changing my mind,” he seethed between his teeth, then the door slammed shut. Gabe blinked slowly then languidly trailed his eyes back to the boy on the floor, still softly hiccupping.

“You gon’ kick me too?” the boy asked, voice still ragged from being unable to breathe, lips oozing fresh blood from where the kid had bitten them in an attempt to silence his wheezing.

“Spit on me and I’ll do worse than that,” Gabe retorted flatly, his face blank. The brat gave a little “hmph” then turned his head, most likely embarrassed to be seen hiccupping and fighting back tears. After a tense moment he mumbled,

“Can I get off the damn floor?” Huffing, Gabe gruffly reached down and grabbed a fistful of the kid’s filthy shirt and hauled him upwards, planting him roughly back into the interrogation chair before sitting on the corner of the table.

“Well goddamn,” the kid grumbled, blinking a couple times to reorient himself.

“Are you familiar with the Omnic Crisis?” Reyes asked tersely, arms crossed over his broad chest as he eyed the kid with poorly hidden contempt.

“Yeah, I know what is was. Big war, ‘lotta people died, same as every other war. What about it?” the boy huffed, tipping his chin up as he addressed Gabe, a poor attempt at looking tough. The tear tracks and split bleeding lip didn’t do much for that image.

“You know any names from that war? Any…’heroes’?” Gabe questioned, throwing his fingers up in air quotations around the word heroes. He couldn’t imagine referring to himself as a hero. Not anymore. A muscle worked in the boy’s jaw and his eyes closed, brow knitting as he concentrated.

“Mmm, yeah. I remember reading magazines where a couple names kept comin’ up,” he drawled after a minute, his eyes gazing up at Gabe cautiously.

“Oh, you can read? Miracles,” Gabe murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Ha, you’re real fuckin’ funny,” the kid snapped, but his cheeks heated up all the same. Maybe he really couldn’t read…

“Names, tell me the names you remember,” Gabe demanded, eyes never leaving the brat’s. The kid gave him a quizzical look but seemed to decide that conceding to Gabe was a better option that asking questions. Good decision on his part.

“Mmm…I know there were a few, but they really went on about some prick name Jack. Jack M somthin’…Real boy scout lookin’ fucker…he had…blond hair…and…” suddenly he trailed off, realization dawning over him as all the color drained from his dirt and blood smeared face. Swallowing thickly, the boy slowly looked at Gabe, his eyes wide.

“Do you know who you just punched?” Gabe asked, a wicked sneer ghosting over his lips as he saw all the bravado from earlier melt away as the boy sat quaking in the interrogation chair.

“I…I…oh, _fuck_ me,” the kid moaned, slamming his head down on the table, crossing his cuffed arms over his head.

“You just punched…Strike Commander of Overwatch and hero of the Omnic Crisis, Jack fucking Morrison,” Gabe informed him, enjoying the muffled moan of despair coming from beneath the boy’s crossed arms. Gabe suddenly slid off of the table and began circling the boy, slowly making his way around the room.

“Yeah, so, let’s recount your situation then. You have…” he paused to snatch Jesse’s file from the table and flipped it open to his offences, a rather impressive list. “several accounts of…grand larceny, assault, battery, high jacking, perjury, theft, grand theft auto, drug possession, drug trafficking, arson, smuggling, illegal weapon possession, and manslaughter. Lots…and lots of man slaughter,” Gabe finished gravely, holding the file behind his back as he continued to circle the table. The kid sat up and was visibly shaking, breaths coming out quick and ragged. Reyes pressed on.

“You are a member of one of the most notorious gangs in the world, you killed _several_ agents of Overwatch, and, to top it all off, you assaulted the Strike Commander…mm, things aren’t looking good for you, boy,”

“Ain’t no kid,” croaked the brat, hands trembling.

“Oh, you know what? You have a point,” Gabe conceded, never stopping his relentless circling, “at court they will fight to try you as an adult.” Gabe could hear the boy’s heart rate quicken, fear and dread settling in. Reyes finally stopped his circling right behind the boy, body stilling so his chest was just mere inches from the back of the boy’s head. He planted his hands on the table on either side of the kid’s arms and leaned down so he was practically speaking into his ear.

“You’ll be sent to a Maximum Security prison for a few years before you ever have a trial. You know how slow American legislation is right?” Gabe crooned, voice disturbingly cold. “At trial there will be no not guilty option, you can only plea for your life. They won’t give it to you.”

Fear was practically rolling of the kid now, his breathing was becoming heavier and Reyes could hear the boy’s throat contracting as he tried to fight back tears.

“The judge will say to euthanize you. One less thug in a cell. They won’t kill you immediately though, there will be appeals, people will say you’re too young to die. So you’ll stay in super max until they finally decide that you need to fry. Could be _years,_ boy,” Gabe was practically growling into the boy’s ear now, he could see the panic in his eyes. Reyes knew he had him where he wanted him…

“A little thing like you? They’ll eat you _alive._ If you’re lucky, a guard might take an interest in you…if you’re not lucky, well, you’ll just get passed arou-“

“Stop!” the kid screeched, voice cracking. “Stop…please…I…I”

“You want out?” It was more a statement than a question. Gabe drew himself up to his full height and kicked the table across the room, the object clattering away with a loud crash, so he could stand in front of the boy himself. The boy’s mouth fell open a bit, eyes wide.

“Um…do I...”

“I said do you want out. Don’t make me repeat myself, boy,” growled Gabe, sneering down at the cowering figure before him. The boy pensively eyed the guns at Gabe’s thighs and swallowed, eyes growing a fraction wider.

“Not like that, kid. I’ve got a proposition for you,” came his offer, words confident.

“What the hell could you want with me?” the boy asked, breathless, like he couldn’t believe anyone could ever expect anything good to come from him. Gabe squatted down so that he was eye to eye with the kid, dark gaze laser focused on those teary brown eyes.

“I know you can shoot, kid. You’re one hell of a shot. I heard the bullets ring out, six of them and they all hit targets. Some of them lethal. My best sniper had eyes on you, said the shit you did was beyond impressive with that outdated piece of scrap you called a gun. You’ve got a gift, boy. And I want it.”

With that, Gabe rose up to his full height, towering over the boy in the chair who was looking at him as if he were a god damn miracle.

“You…you want me-“

“Yeah,” Gabe interrupted, smiling, but there was no friendliness in it. “You took out a lot of my agents, boy, you owe me.” There was a pregnant pause then the kid drew in a ragged breath.

“Who are you?” he breathed, eyes wide and lips parted.

Tilting his chin up but eyes never wavering, he replied, “Gabriel Reyes, Commander of Blackwatch.”

Something like recognition washed over the kid’s face followed by awe. Then his face fell and he looked up at Gabe.

“Blackwatch? I ain’t never heard of no Blackwatch,” he questioned, fear and distrust creeping back into his voice.

“Good, that means that we’re doing our jobs. If you work for me, kid, you won’t be Overwatch. They do the clean shit, police the streets, pose for pictures. Pretty stuff, you know the drill. That ain’t the kind of shit the likes of you and me are built for.” Gabe was looking down at the kid’s face, he could see the way his eyes were lighting up, he heard his heart beating with adrenaline. He was eating this up. Something like eagerness sparked in Gabe’s chest. When was the last time he saw a recruit with that look of awe in their eyes? He continued.

“Blackwatch is a covert operation, filled with only the most capable and deadly agents. We do the dirty work no one wants to talk about. Assassinations, counter terrorist attacks, dark shit. I am the leading commander of Blackwatch and as such you will report to me. You eat when I say and you sleep when I tell you to. I’ll work you to your goddamn bones, boy. I’ll break you. But I will shape you into something better, something useful. I’ll make a fucking man out of you. So, the way I see it, you have two options. You can go and fuck off in a maximum security prison on death row, or you can serve me. What’ll it be. Will you join me in Blackwatch and protect the world from the shadows? Or will you rot away before you ever even get to live,” Gabe finished, chest puffed out, stance proud. He was almost put off by the look of absolute awe and admiration on the kid’s face.

“I want to serve you,” he breathed, honey hued eyes wide. “I wanna’ be Blackwatch.”

Gabe grinned, all malice and teeth.

_Good._

He uncrossed his arms as he heard the interrogation room door swing open. He smelled herbal spices and jasmine shampoo. Ana. Perfect timing.

Gabe smiled ruthlessly and clasped his hands together, taking a stride backwards, away from the curious gaze of the kid.

“Excellent choice, boy. I look forward to working together,” malice dripped from his every word as Gabe imagined breaking in his new agent once he hit eighteen.

“Welcome to Overwatch, McCree. Lights out.”

Before Jesse could retort a sleep dart lodged itself into his shoulder and his head lulled to the side, slipping quickly into unconsciousness.

 

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I stole that line about Jack being too pretty for a lawyer from another McReyes fic. Sorry, I don’t feel like sifting through 40 pages of fics to find that line to credit it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Updates will probably be sporatic but I will write when I can. Comments give me ambition to write this so you know what to do ha ha.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a big ol' fat liar with no self control, and I'm gunna post the second chapter right now! XD  
> No Beta, lets go!

*Hello all. I would thank you for reviews and views but I’m writing this before I post the first chapter because it takes 3 weeks to get an AO3 account for _some_ reason. Without further ado, here is chapter two*

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            It was very apparent that whatever awe and excitement McCree had about being forced into Blackwatch had quickly faded away, leaving him distant, quiet, and resentful. Their footsteps echoed throughout the Overwatch hallways as Gabe escorted the boy to the med bay, other agents giving them a wide birth as they passed by. Gabe’s large hand had a firm clasp over the boy’s left shoulder, steering him through the many corridors, not allowing any protest, even as passers by gave them odd looks. McCree wasn’t off the hook yet, not by a long shot. Gabe had to fight tooth and nail to get Jack to half ass agree to let the boy stay on base until he turned eighteen, on strict probation. In fact, Gabe still wasn’t done with negotiations, he still had to go and discuss terms with Jack after dropping the brat off to see a damn doctor. Huffing, Gabe gave McCree a bit of a shove, forcing him to walk faster, earning him a searing glare. Gabe promptly returned it.

            Finally, they arrived at the med bay doors. Pulling his right glove off with his teeth, Gabe pressed his palm to the keypad, pulling McCree off to the side with his other hand. When the large metal doors slid open, a gust of sterile air brushed past the two, smelling of antiseptics and rubbing alcohol. He always hated that smell. The brat didn’t seem to find it too agreeable either, his whole face scrunched up and he made a disdainful sound in the back of his throat as the doors slid open. With a rough push, Gabe steered the boy through the large medical area to a couple rooms in the back. He gruffly opened one of the doors and unceremoniously shoved the boy inside, causing him to stumble.

            Breathing out through his nose, Gabe instructed, “This is a private examination room. You will sit here and you will cooperate. No exceptions. I have informed all the medical staff to let me know of any insubordination.” He waited for some form of confirmation, which he received in the form of a stiff nod, the kid refusing to look at Gabe’s face.

            “If you’re going to stay here you need to have an up to date medical file. You will be receiving a full examination and will receive any treatment the doctors see fit. After your examination you will get cleaned up and escorted to your room. Do you understand?” Gabe demanded, his voice leaving no room for questions. Again, a stiff nod. A scowl crossed Gabe’s face before he could stop it; he preferred verbal confirmations but technically this brat wasn’t his recruit yet. He’d learn in time.

            “Good,” he grunted, briskly turning as he made his way back to the door, letting it slam behind him as he began to make the irritatingly long trek to Jack’s office.

 

 

            “Angela, there is a special patient in room 5B, please go and tend to them.”

A small woman with tousled blonde hair raised her head from her desk, blinking once before jumping up and tugging on a starch white lab coat that was slung across her desk chair.

            “Yes, I am on my way,” she replied around a hair tie between her teeth as she began pulling up her shoulder length tresses into a messy bun atop her head. Angela has not been with Overwatch long, only a few months in fact, but she was already proving to be one of the most capable healers the organization had ever known. She had completed her medical degree in Switzerland in an unprecedentedly short time, and during her brief employment at Overwatch she had already begun designing new Nano healing technology. She was shaping up to be one of the best.

            Alas, that didn’t mean she could work as she pleased. More often than not, Angela found herself ordered around and was the receiver of many condescending looks. Normally, she simply shouldered it and continued on with her work. If her being seventeen really bothered the other staff then that was their issue. She had lives to safe and no time to dwell on such trivial matters.

            Walking briskly through the med bay, small heels clicking a pleasant rhythm, she rounded a corner until she came to the designated private examination room. She plucked the patient’s medical file from a folder attached to the door and began reading, a pen in between her lips in case she needed to make notes. As it turned out, there wasn’t much to make notes of.

 

                        Patient Name: Jesse Monco McCree

                        Patient Sex: Male

                        Patient Gender: M (?)

                        Patient Age: 17

           

Besides those sparse bits of information, the page was blank. Angela opened the folder again, shaking it to make sure that there really was just one measly scrap of information and, yes. That was it. Frowning, she slipped the utterly useless paper back into its file and let it snap back to the clipboard. She distantly remembered asking the medical staff why they used something as antiquated as paper when all of their medical files were digitally stored. Her superior had informed her that they always wanted to have physical copies on file as well, just incase of a security breach and the medical files were corrupted or wiped. Angela was still getting used to dealing with so much secretive information…it was daunting, to say the least.

            Angela huffed and gave her head a little shake, focusing on the task at hand. After smoothing out her lab coat one last time, she opened the door. As the large door closed behind her she was immediately hit with a strong smell of blood and sweat. Her blue eyes widened and her jaw went slack at the sight of the patient sitting on the examination table, casually swinging his feet back and forth.

            “Vad Fan!?” she exclaimed, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment, a mortified blush creeping up her neck at being so unprofessional. How could she not cry out though? No one warned her that the patient would be in such abysmal shape. The young man’s face was a myriad of bruising colors, lips and brows encrusted with dried blood, hair a matted, slick mess. His throat, my gods, his _throat_. There was a slash across the column of his neck, barely dried and still oozing across the swell of his adam’s apple, dried rivets of blood creating a grim lattice pattern down to his chest, not quite obscuring the bruising that was discoloring his skin. His buttoned flannel shirt was opened, revealing a wife beater that was probably once white that was now was covered in grime and blood splatters, all those overshadowed by a large jagged cut across his stomach, bleeding a deep rusty brown. Almost afraid, Angela’s eyes continued downwards. There appeared to be a deep knife wound high up on the boy’s left thigh and…was that a bullet wound?! Her eyes widened even further and she found herself completely frozen in disbelief before a hoarse voice pulled her back.

            “Um, hey there…ma’am…?”

            Angela snapped back to attention and met the young man’s eyes as he awkwardly gave a small wave of his hand. Angela felt her face morph into a dark scowl and the boy’s eyes widened as he shrank back a bit, arm coming to shield his neck subconsciously.

            “Your condition is absolutely unacceptable, you are covered in filth and bleeding from every orifice! How did you even end up in this state, it’s horrid! How can they even think that I could give you an examination in this state? Unacceptable!” cowed Angela, stalking over to the sink to grab a wet cloth and disinfectant. As the water ran she heard the young man mumble

            “…the fuck’s an orifice?”

            Angela sighed and clicked her tongue. Overwatch really loved to test her.

 

           

“You’re really testing me, Gabe.”

            A long sigh escaped Reyes lips as he leaned back in his chair while Jack skulked around the small office, trench coat trailing behind him.

            “Jack, I really feel like you’re being over dramatic,” Gabe drawled, eyeing all the medals Jack had displayed on his bookshelf. He felt like he did a really great job of not smirking when Jack whirled around and surged towards him, face pink with frustration.

            “I just don’t understand why you’re being so god damned adamant about this brat,” Morrison spat back, glowering down at Gabe.

            Sighing, Gabe rolled his head back to face Jack, acting completely disinterested in the conversation, “I told you, he’s a good shot. A damn good shot. I want him.”

            “You _want_ him,” Jack snarled. “And what? I’m just supposed to roll over and wipe his record because that’s what you _want_?”

Gabe had to physically bite his tongue to keep from remarking how Jack had previously rolled over for him. Those types of comments would not be helpful in this situation…no matter how truthful they were. Instead, he took a steadying breath and met Jack’s eyes.

            “I know you’re skeptical, I get it. He’s a criminal, he’s killed people. But who are we kidding, Jack, we have no right to judge him on that. Especially not me. I see potential in him. So much potential…if I could just get him on my team, teach him how to act, how to think…I could make a real agent out of him. He’s young, he still has time to be set straight,” Gabe argued, seeing the conflict dance behind Jack’s bright blue eyes. He stood up from the desk chair in one swift motion and began slowly circling the office, eyes never leaving his estranged friend.

            “You don’t have to trust him immediately, I don’t. But trust _me_ ,” Gabe offered, voice smooth and stride confident. “I’ll break him, Jack, you know I will. He’ll be eighteen in less than three months, then I can really sink my teeth into him. He will be under my constant supervision, no weapons, no means of escape. Let me make an agent out of him, Jack.”

            The two men stood in silence as they locked eyes, a quiet stand off. The steady heartbeat in Jack’s chest echoed in Gabe’s ears, acting like a clock to count the seconds ticking by before either of them spoke. Jack broke their eye contacts first, scowling off to the side while biting his lip.

            Sighing deeply, Jack finally met Gabe’s eyes again, causing a strange feeling in Gabriel’s chest that he refused to acknowledge.

            “Gabe…I don’t like this, I really don’t. And I can’t bring myself to understand why you want this boy in so badly but…I can compromise with you. I’ll keep his criminal record locked; no one will be able to access it. He can enroll into Blackwatch when he turns eighteen. I’ll give you one year, Gabe.”

            Raising an eyebrow, Gabe couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “One year to do what, exactly?” he questioned, voice low.

            Jack met his hard gaze and replied, “One year to set that kid straight. He has to follow orders, no mouthing off, no violence. He has to be obedient and trained. If when I evaluate him I sense any insubordination, then he’s done. I unlock his record and ship him off to super max with a recommendation for life.”

            “And if he passes this evaluation?” Gabe questioned flatly, squaring his hips and crossing his arms as he starred hard back at his former friend.

            “Then…I wipe his record and he stays,” Jack conceded, not looking too happy about the thought of the boy being within Blackwatch ranks.

            Gabe mulled this over in his mind, silently running scenarios through his head. One year…was not a very long time. There was no plausible way he could have the recruit physically or mentally prepared to go on missions within that time…but, he could certainly train him to take his orders without question…he could do it.

            “Oh, and Gabe?” Jack said darkly, growling through his teeth.

            “Mm?”

            “If that little bastard ever mentions punching me, I break his jaw.”

            Smiling maliciously, Gabe’s eyes glinted as he replied, “Deal.”

 

 

            “You need to take your clothes off and get in the shower. I can’t work like this.”

            Jesse felt his cheeks heat up in resentment as this slip of a doctor pointed at a fancy looking shower in what appeared to be a private bathroom. The woman, Angela she had said, had made an attempt to clean and treat his wounds but claimed that he was apparently so filthy that she couldn’t see blood from dirt. She had healed them enough so that they wouldn’t split open and bleed out but evidently she couldn’t finish on account of the “obscene amount of filth”. That was fair, he supposed. Never being the modest type, Jesse immediately set his calloused fingers to work and began unbuttoning his shirt, stiff with sweat and sand, and gingerly tugged it over his arms, trying to be wary of the many lacerations decorating his skin. The doctor kept talking behind him as he undressed but, honestly, he couldn’t really hear her. Their backs were to each other and his mind was far beyond this sterile bathroom, stretching across miles and miles back to a red desert. She continued to chitter on about sanitation this and disinfect that as Jesse fumbled with his belt buckle, jeans quickly falling off of his slim hips as the belt came undone. He heard a gargled sound of surprise and turned his head just in time to see the blonde woman staring at him wide eyed before whipping her head in the other direction. She cursed out something in a language he didn’t understand while furiously jotting something down on her clipboard.

            “You could have waited, I was going to give you some privacy,” she bit out between her clenched teeth, cheeks tinted a rosy pink. Jesse just shrugged, not bothered at all by being completely nude, it wasn’t like he had anything to hide.

            “Ya’ told me to get undressed, so I did,” he replied frankly, squinting at the shower inquisitively. How the hell did this thing work? There was a digital screen for fucks sake. He felt a bit of embarrassment prickle along his spine again, hot and electric, at his inability to use the technology.

            “Can you, um…show me how t’ turn this on?” he asked quietly, turning to look at the doctor who seemed to refuse to allow her gaze to rest anywhere below his shoulders.

            “Yes…please step aside,” she replied evenly, stiffly walking forwards as Jesse stepped to her left, watching with slight fascination at how pale and smooth her hands were. He subconsciously rubbed his fingertips together, feeling the calluses and scars grate against each other.

            “You press your finger on this small pad here and a screen will activate,” Angela began instructing, peeking at Jesse’s face to make sure he was paying attention. He nodded fervently and swallowed, hoping he could do it as easily as the doctor made it look.

            “After you active the pad a small slider will pop up on the screen, and you can slide your finger along it to choose a temperature you would like. The closer to the red indicator will make your water hotter, and blue will be colder. When you are ready to shut the water off, press your finger here,” she advised, pointing to yet another finger pad. Jesse gingerly stepped inside, glancing around the small tiled space. There were several bottles of varying colors, a couple cloths, and what Jesse could only describe as a tiny, blue, plastic tumbleweed. Angela must have seen him eyeing it because she reached over and scooped it up, holding the strange object in between them.

            “This is a body pouf, just pour a bit of liquid soap on it and gently scrub your body, it will help exfoliate your skin and get rid of the grime,” Angela tutored, a small smile on her lips. Jesse felt his cheeks warm a bit at the sign of affection, as miniscule as it was. He wasn’t really used to…that. Kindness. It made his stomach feel strange but…not in a bad way, he decided. Slowly, he reached out and took the strange poofy object in his hands, giving it a test squeeze and nodding, even if he didn’t really know what the hell “exfoliate” meant.

            Angela cleared her throat and leaned into the shower further, using the sliding glass door as a prop for most of her weight.

            “There is shampoo for your hair, I recommend rinsing it out at least twice and follow that up with conditioner. That over there is a loofa, it is a course sponge and is best for tougher parts of your body, like the bottoms of your feet,” she instructed happily, pointing to a pale rock-looking object. Seeing Jesse’s raised eyebrow, she gave a little huff.

            “It scrubs off layers of dead skin,” she informed him, pouting like she was upset that he didn’t know you were supposed to scrub the bottoms of your damn feet. Jesse simply nodded and, after glancing around the shower again, looked back at the blonde.

            “Thanks Doc, I ‘ppreciate you helpin’ me with all this,” he said earnestly, giving her a small smile. This seemed to catch her off guard, her smile falling to form a little “oh” shape and her big blue eyes widened a fraction.

            “Oh, um, yes, of course! It is my job to make sure you are as healthy as possible, Jesse,” she chirped happily as she began to slide the glass doors of the shower closed.

            Oh, she knew his name. That was…something Jesse wasn’t sure how he felt about. He didn’t know why he was so surprised…it just caught him off guard. Angela snapped him out of his thoughts as she called at him from across the bathroom, her head poking out of the doorway.

            “Now please get cleaned up, I really do need to examine you,” she said sternly but it didn’t sound hateful. Then the door closed and she was gone.

            Jesse turned his eyes to the panels on the tile wall and skeptically held his finger to the scanner. He was legitimately surprised when he got the temperature gauge to come up as Angela said it would.

            _See, it can’t be that hard,_ he thought encouragingly to himself, pressing his finger to the slider and pushing it almost all the way to the right. Hot water was best, right?

            Well, apparently Angela had thought it not very pertinent to mention that, number one, the water turned on immediately after selecting a temperature, and two, the water would be too hot for Satan his fucking self. The water hissed on and a downpour of steaming hot liquid rushed over Jesse’s body, causing him to yelp out a slur of curses as he leapt away from the water, pressing his back against the cool tile. After gulping down some air he realized that in order to turn the temperature down to something that wouldn’t steam him alive, he would have to reach his arm back through the watery inferno. Gritting his teeth, Jesse shot his arm across the shower and slid the temperature gage back to the left, mumbling out a string of swears his Mama would have been proud of. Eventually, the steam lessoned and the water washed warm over his skin.

            Jesse turned his back to the showerhead and allowed the hot water to rush over his back, an involuntary little sigh escaping his lips. This felt so…nice. In the Gorge you were lucky to get your hands on clean water to drink, let alone bathe with. Bathing usually meant taking a dip in the Lichii River or dumping a bucket of spicket water over your head, cleanliness be damned. Water was just good to scrub of blood and sweat…and a few other substances. At the memory of Deadlock, Jesse felt his blood run cold, even as hot water splashed and riveted down his back.

            They were gone. They were all gone. His entire life, his home, everybody he knew…all wiped out in less than a day. His hand rose to clench over his heart as an indescribable ache began to overtake his chest. There was no way more than twenty people escaped, there had been no time. Those Overwatch bastards had told him five total Deadlock has been taken into custody, including him. He vaguely remembered waking up in a prison transport and across from him had been Big Boss’ woman, Ela, one of the fiercest people Jesse had ever come across in his whole miserable life. Her long dark hair, usually in twin braids, had been wild and caked in blood, and half of her face was completely covered in gore. There were angry tears in her eyes when she had looked up to meet Jesse’s bewildered gaze. He remembered asking if the Boss had got away, and he had. Of course he had, Jesse thought bitterly to himself. Overwatch thought they had eradicated Deadlock but they were wrong. Big Boss would crop up eventually. That fucking snake always got his way.

            Shaking his head, as if he could physically rid himself of the gruesome thoughts, Jesse pushed the memories of crying with Ela in a prison transport to the back of his mind. For now, he would focus on the best shower he had ever felt in his whole god forsaken life.

            Tipping his head back, he let out a throaty groan as water plastered over the crown of his head, causing the dried blood and grit in his hair to trickle down the nape of his neck. After several long minutes of just standing there, relishing the water, he reached for the shampoo and poured an ample blob of it into his palm. It was cool and almost translucent, giving off a slightly floral scent Jesse couldn’t quite place. Reaching over his head, he began working the substance into his hair, feeling the sand shift under his fingers as he began massaging his scalp. After a while he tipped his head back into the water and rinsed, the liquid going down almost brown. That…probably wasn’t great. Taking Angela’s advice, he poured more shampoo into his palm and repeated the process, deciding he would wash his hair as many times as it took to get the water to run clean.

            Four. It took four times. Not that Jesse minded staying in the shower longer, honestly, it was heaven. Next he grabbed the conditioner and squeezed a mound of it onto his palm, startled by how thick it was. As he ran the slick substance through his hair, Jesse was astonished by how…soft his hair was starting to feel. That was certainly new. After rinsing out his locks again, he reached for the funky looking blue mesh…thing. A pouf, apparently?

            “Fuckin’ city folks,” Jesse mumbled as he reached for a bottle of soap, pouring the vaguely almond scented liquid onto the little blue ball. Gently, he began working circles over his chest, surprised when tiny little bubbles began to foam up over his skin. He did become a little discouraged when the bubbles turned a coppery brown before he could even finish scrubbing his stomach. Apparently, just like his hair, getting clean was going to take multiple attempts. Again and again, Jesse scrubbed at his shoulders, then arms, even working the soap under his blunt fingernails. Eventually he was able to move to his chest and stomach, being very careful with the red gash that was barely closed on his left side. Then came his backside and genitals, finally moving to his legs and feet. Jesse accidentally brushed the pouf too hard over his gunshot wound in his thigh and hissed through his teeth as the delicate skin tore open, watered down blood trickling down his leg.

            “Fuck…” he muttered to himself. Angela wouldn’t be happy about that.

            Tossing the pouf back into a cubby in the tile wall, Jesse reached for a washcloth, soaking the rag under the stream of the shower before gingerly bringing it to his neck. The gash across his throat brought painful memories to the forefront of his mind, hands grabbing at his hips, tearing at his hair when he tried to pull away. Jesse was not a stranger to being forced to do things he didn’t want to do, in fact, the majority of his life had been comprised of doing just that. Somehow, though, he always seemed to forget those instances, as if they had been wiped away completely…but this memory was still fresh in his mind. Jesse remembered taking out his gun and fighting for his life, kicking and screeching, clawing at the strong appendages that encircled him, forcing him to the ground. That was how he came to have a knife at his neck, harsh breath in his ear promising him _“There ain’t no way out.”_

            “Fuckin’ bastards,” Jesse hissed to himself as his throat contracted, his chest heaving. Swallowing hard, Jesse took a deep breath and let it out slowly, gingerly bringing the cloth back to his neck, then his face. He pushed that memory back to the recesses of his mind, locking it away with all the others. He would make himself forget, forget all the bruised knees and sore throats, all the poorly hidden limps and ill concealed bruises. He always forgot. Jesse scrubbed at his skin, forcing away the grime and the filthy memories. Maybe this could be a new start for him…maybe he could leave Deadlock behind. He knew, though. In the back of his mind he knew that, just like the tattoo on his arm, he would carry his scars from Deadlock for a long while.

            Finally, he finished up in the shower, having no idea how long he had been in there, steam rolling throughout the air in the bathroom. He had even scrubbed his feet with the weird sponge, having been morbidly fascinated by how much skin he had peeled off. He gave a little shiver at the memory as he stepped out and grabbed a towel, bringing the thick fluffy cloth up to his hair before shaking his head like a dog. Gingerly drying the rest of his body, being careful of his many fresh wounds, he glanced around the bathroom and spotted the toilet and sink. There seemed to be a small pile of clothes on the toilet lid and Jesse suspiciously picked them up and examined them. Had Angela snuck these in while he was showering without him even noticing? Spooky. There was a dark blue shirt with a small Overwatch insignia on the right pectoral and matching sweat pants, two orange and white racing stripes going vertically down the legs. Such a god damn tacky color scheme. He tugged the pants on first, dismayed at how they just barely didn’t pool at his ankles, then slipped the t-shirt over his head. The shirt fit much better, hugging his middle in a strangely fitting way. Jesse could swear he could smell light hints of vanilla emitting from the fabric. A small pair of boxer-briefs also sat on the toilet but Jesse never really understood the purpose of underwear, he never wore them. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful to the sweet doctor though so he simply folded them up and pocketed them in his sweats. His pants were still a bit too loose, even as he tugged the drawstrings as tight as they would go and they rode up a bit on his ankles, even when they sat low on his hips. Frowning, Jesse wondered if they didn’t make sweats for his body type here…too long and too skinny. Thinking back, all the agents he had seen had been pretty…thick. Jesus, especially the two bastards who interrogated him, they were built like brick houses. He couldn’t imagine them having issues with size small sweatpants being too loose.

            As Jesse walked over to the bathroom sink and grabbed an unopened toothbrush, he couldn’t help but think back to his captors. The blond, Jack Morrison, was a handsome bastard, with his chiseled features covered in golden stubble, but, damn, he was an ass. Reminded Jesse of some of the Deadlock members who had too much power and even more attitude. Just threw their weight around because they could. Jesse couldn’t stand people like that.

            Then there was Reyes. Jesse swallowed thickly around the toothpaste in his mouth, thinking back to the way the man had towered over him on the garage roof, the sun behind him and the red neon making him look otherworldly, a harbinger of death. He was…terrifying, seemed more like a monster than a man. The commander had been dressed head to toe in black and blood, dark eyes staring down at Jesse like he was the scum of the Earth. It put the fear of god in Jesse like he had never felt before, whole body running cold as he stared up in some strange mix of terror and awe. He just knew this was the man who would finally put him in his well-deserved grave.

            Spitting in the sink, Jesse shook his head and tried to take a steadying breath. He was here, he was alive. And that man, Reyes, wanted him here. Jesse wasn’t sure if that was more reassuring or terrifying.

 

 

            Gabriel gave the examination room door a harsh knock and entered, not bothering waiting for a response. Forty-five minutes was plenty of time for an examination. As he brushed past the door he saw the young doctor Angela typing something into her holoscreen. She glanced up at him and narrowed her eyes, mouth quirking down into a slight frown.

            “Ah, hello Commander,” she greeted coolly, setting down her holoscreen on the counter as she addressed him. Always polite.

            “Where’s the boy?” Gabe asked gruffly, beginning to feel a bit nervous when he didn’t spot the Deadlock brat anywhere in the room. Angela’s mouth gave a little twitch and her lips became a thin line.

            “Jesse will be here in a moment, he just finished taking a shower,” she replied icily, still giving Gabe that look she always did. Ignoring her obvious contempt for him, Gabe felt anger creep up his neck. That little fucker was already disobeying orders.

            “I instructed him to bathe after the exami-“ he began biting out, but was promptly interrupted.

            “Yes, Commander, I know what you instructed but I couldn’t work with him being covered in an inch of dirt and blood,” Angela all but hissed, her voice somehow still maintaining that pleasant tone. “He just finished and is on his way, I have been monitoring him here,” she continued, stabbing her manicured finger to a screen that read heat signatures. “He has done nothing except what I have asked him to do. His examination won’t take long,” she finished, eyeing him coldly. Gabe scowled but didn’t rebuke her. Suddenly a door swung open and in swaggered the brat.

            “Damn doc, I ain’t never felt so clean in my whole damn li-“ but his words got caught in his throat, mouth snapping shut as he laid eyes on Gabe. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed, he drew himself up and lowered his chin, eyes tracking Gabe from under his dark lashes. He looked like a wild dog, the way he slowly maneuvered around him, eyes never looking away. The doctor must have noticed the change too because she quickly put a smile on her lips and approached him with an outstretched arm and led the brat to sit on the examination table, trying to put him at ease. Gabe’s eyes raked over the boy, taking in the change of appearance with a critical gaze. He was in Overwatch colors; pants too loose and he could see the boy’s shoulder blades and several notches of his spine through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. His hair was a glossy brown, no longer caked with grease and grime, too long, wisps of it sitting on his shoulders. Surprised, he realized that the boy’s skin was tan, not just dirty, and was still decorated with a myriad of bruises, but as he sat down on the examination table Gabe noticed that Angela had turned on a biotic field. The bruises would be gone in a matter of minutes.

            “I’m sorry Jesse, I should have left a note on your clothes. Please take your shirt back off, I need to be able to see your skin,” the young woman apologized, giving the boy a small smile. “ Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but that is an old shirt of mine, I couldn’t find one that would fit you in our men’s department,” she finished, smiling sheepishly.

            The boy gave a soft chuckle and began tugging the form-fitting shirt back over his head.

            “Clothes is clothes, doc, I don’t mind. You sure you ain’t sweet on me?” he finished, tossing the shirt to the end of the table, grinning devilishly at the doctor after his little joke. She wasn’t laughing though. Her eyes were locked on the same place Gabe’s were; on the large bruising boot print across the boy’s bony chest, the Overwatch issued brand plain to see across his sun kissed skin. Gabe felt himself swallow in spite of himself as Angela slowly reached out and traced the outline of the boot, Jack’s boot, causing the boy’s face to heat up at the contact. She straightened and, without looking at Gabe, spoke lowly to the boy.

            “I’m going to finish healing you now, and will complete your examination shortly. These things are, of course, confidential. Commander Reyes will be leaving. Now,” she all but ordered, never once giving Gabe so much as a second glance. Sucking his teeth, Gabe turned on his heel and began stalking towards the door.

            “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to escort him to his holding room, be sure he’s ready by then,” Gabe called, not turning his head to address the doctor directly. She didn’t say anything but Gabe was sure she got the message. No one spoke as Gabe threw open the door but he could feel the boy’s eyes boring into his back.

 

 

            Jesse couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped his lips as a soft yellow light emitting from the doctor’s staff engulfed him in a strange warm feeling, his eyes widening as the purple and black bruises began to morph into green, then yellow, then vanished. He looked up, bewildered, at Angela who was standing a couple feet away as she lightly twirled the staff, giggling a bit at Jesse’s dumbstruck face. Another little gasp slipped out when he felt the gash on his throat healing and closing. It made his skin feel hot and tight, but, at the same time, it was soothing. Slowly, he brought his calloused fingertips to run over the sensitive surface of his neck, disbelief blooming across his face as he felt the smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingers. He thought he would have a huge scar for life, but now all he could feel was a small raised line.

            “H-how did you…I don’t…” he stammered, looking at Angela. She smiled softly at him, her cheeks turning that cute shade of pink again.

            “I built this staff to utilize nano technology to quickly mend and heal injuries on the battlefield,” Angela informed him, pride swelling up her chest. Jesse’s eyes widened even more at that.

            “You invented that?” he asked, awestruck. Always modest, she simply nodded, looking down at her feet shyly. Jesse whistled, loud and low, watching, mesmerized, as the gash in his stomach turned into a thin line.

            “You’re amazing,” he said earnestly, looking up at Angela, smiling bright in relief as the pain throughout it body slowly ebbed away in the soft light. She ducked and shook her head, picking up the staff and setting it in the corner, but Jesse saw the small smile on her lips.

            “How old are you, anyways? You can’t be more th’n twenty,” Jesse asked, leaning back into the palms of his hands as Angela walked towards him with a small bag and a tablet.

            “I am seventeen,” she replied, placing a weird bracelet around Jesse’s wrist, the metal snapping with a soft clank.

            “No shit, me too!” Jesse exclaimed excitedly. Raising an eyebrow, Angela replied,

            “Yes, I know.”

            Jesse made a face at her, making her snort as she typed things into her tablet.

            “Alright, Jesse, lie down, I’m going to do a full body scan and run some tests,” Angela chided, pressing Jesse’s chest down lightly with her hand.

“Yes ma’am, ain’t no need to get so rough with me…unless you like it that way,” he insinuated lewdly, raising a suggestive eyebrow and giving the doctor a smile. She huffed, picking up his discarded shirt and throwing it over his face. Jesse’s laugh was muffled and genuine as Angela positioned a scanner over him, the strange robotic arms passing slowly over his body as they fed information into Angela’s screen. He heard her make small sounds of concern, but didn’t ask about it. If it was important she would probably tell him. After an extensive wait, Jesse had long since lost track of the time, Angela motioned for him to sit back up.

“All right Jesse, it’s over, you can get dressed again,” she mumbled, not yet looking up from her tablet.

“You sure you want me to, Doc?” Jesse asked with a wink, even as he tugged his shirt back over his head. Angela just gave him a look, shaking her head. Angela had turned away from him by the time he was fully dressed and Jesse couldn’t help but notice the strange metal bracelet on his wrist was still there.

“Mm, excuse me, ma’am? This ain’t a uh…a trackin’ device, is it?” Jesse called to Angela from the examination table, suspicion creeping into his gut. The doctor turned around with a look of guilt, her eyebrows furrowed as she bit her lip. Well…that couldn’t be good.

“Yes Jesse, I’m sorry, but I was informed that you are on probation. That bracelet will track your movements as well as your vitals. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable,” she apologized softly, crossing the room to stand by him.

“Aw, you ain’t gotta’ apologize, I figured that’s what it was. You ain’t gotta’ be so nice to me, neither,” Jesse said quietly, fingertips slowly tracing over his Deadlock tattoo on his left forearm.

“Kindness ain’t meant for people like me…”

Suddenly, Angela’s hand covered his own, small, pale, and soft. He looked up at her face, too touch starved to fully comprehend the soft pressure on his skin.

“I do what I need to do to make sure the people in my care are healthy and safe, regardless of their pasts. It is my belief that no one deserves to suffer if it is preventable,” Angela comforted him softly, giving his hand a small squeeze before going back to her tablet. Jesse swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions welling in his gut, heavy and cold. He liked Angela, he really did, she was one of the sweetest, most beautiful people he had ever been blessed enough to meet…but she was naive. She had no idea the things Jesse had done, had helped to do. She spent her life learning how to save, he spent his learning how to take. The fucked up thing was…Jesse considered himself one of the good ones. There were worse…far worse.

_I’m sorry, Angela_ , Jesse thought, teeth grinding as he dug his blunt nails into his tattoo, _some people more than deserve to suffer_. Suddenly a loud knock on the door jolted Jesse out of the dark recesses of his thoughts.

 

 

Reyes rapped on the examination door again, but this time he actually waited for a response. He didn’t see any reason to further the doctor’s distrust in him. After a moment he heard a curt “Come in,” so he obeyed. Stepping in he saw the kid standing near a window, fiddling with the drawstring of his pants, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he fumbled with the elastic. Next to him Angela was reading something on her tablet, looking up at him over the illuminated screen.

“Ah, Commander Reyes, right on time,” she greeted, a little less coldly than their last encounter.

_As if I’d be late,_ he couldn’t help but mentally retort, watching the boy out of the corner of his eyes as the doctor approached him.

“I have finished his examination and have some information I would like to share with you,” she stated, meeting his dark gaze without flinching. “We could discuss it here privately, or I could email it to you, whichever you prefer.”

“Let’s go ahead and get the information on the table,” Reyes replied gruffly. Turning his head, Gabe addressed the boy, who was stiffly standing in the corner.

“McCree, stand outside the door and do not move until I come for you. If I go out there and your back isn’t against the wall, you can kiss Overwatch goodbye,” Gabe instructed, narrowing his eyes as the boy jolted to attention at the sound of his name.

“I, um, yessir,” he mumbled, slipping on some Overwatch issued tennis shoes then quickly striding out the door, giving Gabe a strange look of out the side of his eyes as he went. Suddenly, something caught Gabe’s eye. The kid’s pocket had a bulge in it…he had something in his pocket. Immediately, alarm bells went off in Reyes’ head, how could this ungrateful brat steal something already? Didn’t he realize how far Gabe had stuck his neck out for him?

“McCree, turn out your pockets. Now,” Gabe growled, turning to look at the kid, petrified in his spot. Slowly, McCree turned around and swallowed, looking from Gabe to Angela then back to Gabe, before delving his hand into his right pocket and pulling out a small folded piece of blue clothing.

“The hell is that?” Gabe asked menacingly, noticing the way color crept up McCree’s neck.

“They’re um…they’re underwear…sir…” he mumbled out awkwardly, wincing when he heard Angela’s little gasp.

“Jesse! I gave those to you so you would wear them, not shove them in your pants!” Angela chided loudly, her face turning pink, in embarrassment or anger Reyes couldn’t be sure.

“Aw, but Ang, I don’t like wearing drawers, they don’t do nothin’ but ride up my-“

“Jesse!” Angela cried again, throwing a pen at the kid and nailing him directly between the eyes.

“Ow, goddamn, woman!” he hissed, rubbing the small ink spot on his forehead. Gabe felt his hackles lower… the kid didn’t steal. He just apparently had a negative disposition to underwear. Christ.

“McCree, outside, now,” Reyes growled, almost smirking when he saw the kid jolt and quickly walk towards the doorway, underwear in hand. Only when Gabe heard the door close did he turn to address the young doctor.

“These rooms are soundproof, yeah?” he questioned, walking over to look at a monitor Angela had pulled up on her computer screen.

“Yes,” came the curt reply.

“Good,” Reyes said, turning to face her. “What is it that you need me to know?” he asked, folding his arms and squaring his shoulders.

“That boy is in terrible condition,” Angela began, her tone serious and eyes concerned. Gabe kept his face emotionless.

“He is severely underweight and suffering from malnutrition, his muscle development is far behind what it should be for a male of his age,” the doctor continued, pulling up McCree’s medical file on the large computer screen.

“I am recommending a high calorie diet with lot’s of fats from fruits and vegetables. He will need some form of protein with each meal, at least one fruit and one vegetable, and nutrition shakes wouldn’t be a bad follow up. He is deficient in everything except Vitamin D, basically,” Angela huffed, her brow furrowing in concern. This struck some sort of nerve with Reyes for some reason. Then there was also the weird thing where McCree had called her “Ang”…they got close pretty damn quick. Reyes only hoped the kid wasn’t taking the doctor for some sort of ride the way he had with Jack. The way he lured people in with sultry charm only to stab them in the back…it was a good, if not concerning, skill to have in this business. His thoughts were interrupted when the doctor continued on, snapping Gabe back to the present.

“As for physical markings, Jesse has a golden earrings in both his ears, a tongue piercing, a Deadlock tattoo on his left forearm, on his upper back and shoulders he has a tattoo of a coyote skull with antlers outlined in tribal markings, a portrait of a woman on his lower right shoulder, a desert kite on his right hip, and on the back of his right thigh he has a tattoo that reads ‘Naco’,” Angela finished, pursing her lips when Gabe sucked his teeth at the long list of degenerate accessories McCree had decided to adorn his body with.

“Anything else?” Gabe asked, realizing he should probably respond to all of the information he was being given. Glancing over at the doctor, he saw her frowning and biting her lip, her eyes focused on her tablet.

“Yes, there is something else you probably should know…” she began slowly, as if the subject was complex. Gabe turned to face her, meeting her dark azure gaze.

“Jesse has signs of…trauma, old and new. Physical trauma of a…sensitive nature,” she began, biting her lip. Gabe tipped his chin up, taking in the grim information.

“I would simply advise you to be careful when regarding that,” she finished, pity apparent in her eyes. Gabe just stiffly nodded, trying not to think about all the shit that kid had probably seen in his short lifetime.

“So that’s everything?” Gabe asked, looking towards the door to where McCree should be, just on the other side.

“Well, he will have to come back and see me for his shots in a weeks time, he has never been vaccinated. Oh, and he appears to drink and smoke…both excessively,” Angela huffed, rubbing one of her temples. Gabe sucked his teeth, almost amused at the extensive laundry list of cons that came with the kid to accompany the very few pros. If Jack saw this medical file he would probably have an aneurism. But Gabe knew a diamond in the rough when he saw one.

Nodding, Gabe thanked Angela and made his way towards the door, pushing it open and immediately looking for McCree. He was slouched against the opposite wall, one of his long legs propping him up while his other leg was bent, foot resting against the wall. He immediately snapped to attention when Gabe appeared in the doorway, scrabbling to stand up straight. Gabe stalked towards him, giving the kid a once over.

“You ready?” Reyes questioned cryptically, impressed the kid was able to hold his gaze.

“Um, yes,” he replied, voice not too shaky, big brown eyes watching him with unreadable emotions.

“Yes _what_?” Reyes growled, leaning in so his face was mere inches from the boy’s.

“Yes sir!” McCree all but barked, biting his lip nervously afterwards. Gabe smiled maliciously, reveling in the fact that he was such an intimidating figure.

“Good, brat. Keep that quick learning up and we won’t have any issues,” Reyes remarked snidely, briskly turning and striding down the hall.

“Follow me and keep up,” he commanded over his shoulder, smirking as he heard footsteps fall in line behind him. The pair strode quickly through the compound, Gabe setting a brisk pace and Jesse matching to follow. Reyes didn’t respond to the many greetings and salutes the Overwatch agents offered him, save for a stiff nod, and he scowled at anyone who dared to shoot him a questioning look. Eventually, the Overwatch agents thinned out as Gabe led them to an unused wing of the compound, the barracks no longer in commission. The pair reached a room at the very end of an empty hallway, Gabe tugging off his leather glove so he could press his palm to the scanner. With a whoosh the sliding door opened, revealing a small, dark room. Reaching his arm in, Gabe flicked the lights on and stepped inside, waiting expectantly for the boy to follow him. McCree slowly stepped in, his eyes wide as he looked around the small room.

There wasn’t much to it, the room was a pretty standard model for a low ranking agent. There was a faux wooden dresser against one of the walls, next to a small desk and stool. Against the other wall was a single twin size bed, a small night table with a lamp cozied up beside it. A tiny window was the only thing breaking up the navy blue walls, a few slivers of light seeping through the blinds and hitting the white tiled floor. There was one small luxury in this room, however, one Gabe had specifically requested. Directly to the right of the doorway was a small bathroom, complete with a toilet, sink, and shower. The bathroom itself was exceptionally tiny, but it was a lot more than agents usually received. Most agents used a shared bathroom, but Gabe would be damned if he was going to have to escort this little brat to the toilet every time he had to take a piss. This way it would save them both the trouble. The only thing it was really missing was a kitchen…which reminded Gabe…

“McCree, when was the last time you ate?” Gabe asked gruffly, turning to find the boy running his fingertips over the bedspread, his lips slightly parted in a look of awe. His eyes widened and his back snapped to attention as he turned to respond.

“Um…I think I ate a can of something yesterday? Think it was beans or some shit,” he replied, face scrunching up as he tried to remember. Gabe sniffed, not really pleased with that answer. Guess the kid was used to fasting when he couldn’t scrounge up some outdated can of food.

“I see. Listen, McCree, this is your temporary room until your ass turns eighteen and you are not to step foot out of it without my permission. I don’t give a damn if the building’s on fire, you don’t move without my say so, understood?” he demanded, staring down the boy, looking for any sign of anger or malcontent. Instead, he just saw a look of determination and was met with a solid,

“Yes sir, I understand.”

“Good,” Gabe replied, “I’ll be right back, get yourself acquainted with your new home, boy.” With that, Gabe turned and strode out of the room, the automatic door locking behind him with a click.

The mess hall wasn’t as crowded as usual, most agent’s had already finished eating by the time Gabe entered, which suited him just fine. He really didn’t like associating with these soft Overwatch brats, made him too aware of where he stood. Boots landing heavily with eat step, Gabe crossed the cafeteria, eyeing the menu for the day. Being a commanding officer, he could order anything he wanted, really, but he usual opted out of bothering the kitchen staff and just bought whatever was being served. Eyeing the options, Gabe decided on a cheeseburger, salad, fries, apple slices, and a small brownie. That all seemed to fit Angela’s “high calorie” diet she had recommended for McCree. Gabe would have to get an agent to deliver all of McCree’s meals next time, he was far too busy to do it himself and Gabe certainly didn’t trust the boy to go to and from his room unsupervised. The brat would probably sweet-talk the lunch ladies, wooing himself into some extra portions. The thought almost made Gabe scoff.

After paying for the large tray of food, Gabe made his way over to the small convenience store adjacent to the cafeteria, doing his damndest not to dwell on how much nicer it was than the one at the Blackwatch base. It was just a simple room containing miscellaneous items agents might need on a day to day basis, gum, pain killers, toiletries, snacks. Eyeing the lines of shelves, Gabe eventually ended up purchasing a bag filled with protein and fruit shakes, throwing some cash on the counter before grabbing McCree’s tray of food and making his way back to the kid’s room. It was a little awkward getting his palm on the door scanner through his arms full of food but Reyes managed, stepping inside and setting the tray on the small desk.

“Alright, boy, soup’s on. Get your scrawny ass over here and eat all this,” Gabe commanded, turning to see McCree sitting on his bed, jaw slack and eyes wide. Slowly, the kid slipped off of his bed and cautiously padded over on bare feet, looking from the tray of food to Gabe, then back to the food. When he finally stood next to Gabe at the desk, McCree looked up at Gabe, eyes bright and lips slightly parted.

“Is…is all this for me?” he asked breathlessly, like Gabe had just set the Arc of the Covenant in front of him, the small platter of food a gift from the gods.

“Yeah, kid, all yours. Got to get some meat on your damn bones,” Gabe huffed, gesturing for the kid to sit down. Slumping onto the stool, the kid took an apple slice and gradually slid it into his mouth, crunching it slowly between his teeth, eyeing Gabe the whole time like he was afraid it was some kind of trick. Gabe just simply watched him from the door a couple feet away, eyebrow raised in slight amusement as McCree cautiously swallowed. That was like a floodgate opening because the second he swallowed that one apple slice the kid hoisted the burger up to his mouth and began devouring it like someone might take it away. After scarfing down a few mouthfuls, McCree threw his head back and groaned loudly, before diving back down into his food, shoving fries and lettuce into his mouth between bites of burger.

“Hey kid, slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick,” Gabe grumbled, furrowing his brow at the way the kid was cramming food into his gullet. After a second the kid slowed, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggled to swallow, gasping when he finally got his food down.

“Lo siento, its just that this is the best shit I’ve ever tasted in my whole fuckin’ life, un putera la comida” McCree panted, not seeming to notice he slipped into Spanish for a moment. Snorting, Gabe replied,

“Yeah, it is a fucking lot of food,” smirking when McCree gave him a quizzical look.

“Do I…do I get to eat like this everyday?” McCree questioned, a huge goofy smile plastered all over his face as he popped another fry into his mouth.

“Three times a day when you’re on base. On missions food will be more scarce but as long as you’re here, you eat like this three times a day, everyday,” Gabe replied, almost startled by the look of absolute disbelief that overtook the kid’s face. After a second of stunned silence, he beamed up at Gabe, eyes bright and a huge smile on his lips.

“Thanks, sir,” he croaked, before turning his head back to his nearly demolished meal. Gabe just settled back and let him eat; this collection of food was probably one of the best things that had ever happened to the kid.

After forcing the kid to drink some water, insisting that there wasn’t a shortage here, he sat down and handed the boy a tablet.

“I’m not just going to let you sit on your ass before you join Blackwatch, you have a lot of work to do. I need to make sure you’re literate and up to date on politics, so you’ll be using this to learn all that shit,” Gabe commanded, pointing his gloved finger to the tablet in the kid’s hands. The kid bit his lip and nodded, seeming nervous.

“Can you read and write?” Gabe asked, hoping they wouldn’t have to start that far back in his education.

“Yes sir, not too well, but I can read and write okay,” he murmured, turning the tablet over in his hand and inspecting it.

“Once you join Blackwatch you’ll get better tech, that thing is a piece of junk,” Gabe commented as he watched the boy turn the tablet on and inspect it.

“Fanciest piece of junk I ever owned,” the kid quipped back, a small smile on his lips. Gabe scoffed and grabbed the tablet back, running through the steps to turn it on and access his assignments, McCree grumbling every now and then. After stressing the importance of his educational assignments Gabe stood and strode towards the door.

“You will be enrolled into Blackwatch on your Birthday, in exactly nine weeks. Until then you won’t be seeing much, if any, of me. In my absence I expect you to be on your best god damned behavior,” Gabe began, addressing McCree as an agent.

“I am really sticking my neck out for you boy, don’t you dare make me regret it. Someone will deliver your meals to you and an agent may occasionally escort you to the med bay. This is your probation, this is not meant to be fun. Complete your assignments and don’t cause me any trouble,” he finished gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yessir, I won’t cause no trouble,” McCree replied sullenly, shifting his feet almost nervously.

“Good,” Gabe growled, then promptly exited the room, although, if he were honest, he was having a really hard time believing that.

 

 

The first couple weeks Jesse made it through no problem, he was an absolute angel. He completed his _boring ass_ assignments when he was supposed to, slogging through history and literature tests hours on end, day after day. He didn’t sass, or even hit on, the agents that gave him his food. Okay, that wasn’t quite true, he flirted with a couple of them, but it had earned him more desserts so, in a way, he was just doing as his commander ordered and “putting some meat on his bones”. When he was bored he just watched movies on his little tablet or practiced his handwriting. Hell, he had even attempted to do push ups, to disappointing results.

By the third week though, he was dying. He really needed a fucking drink and he _really_ needed a fucking smoke. He had never gone more than a few days without one of those, let alone both. His fingers and hands were trembling and he couldn’t fucking focus on anything, he felt sick constantly, twitching and convulsing at night without the burn of alcohol down his throat or the heavy feeling of smoke in his lungs. His stupid fucking tic had come back, where he tugged on his earring constantly and chewed his lip to the point of blistering, and that was annoying as all hell. He just…he needed something. This insatiable need was how he came to be face to face with Commander Reyes…a lot sooner than he was supposed to.

The older man stood in front of Jesse, arms crossed and his face in a scowl, sending jolts of shame and fear of his spine.

“You want to tell me why, just three weeks into your probation, I get a call about you trying to break out of your room, after soliciting yourself to an Overwatch agent,” Reyes growled, hard eyes boring a hole through Jesse.

“I ain’t solicited nothin’,” McCree grumbled, biting his lips, struggling to meet the Commander’s gaze.

“I’m pretty sure offering ‘anything you want’ to whoever unlocks your door is soliciting, brat,” Reyes retorted, rolling his eyes harshly. Jesse just bit his lip hard, hands trembling and fingers twitching even worse than they were before, aching to tug on his earring but settling on harshly rubbing his fingertips together instead. Oh god, he was losing it. Suddenly, a large hand on his shoulder made him jolt in terror, surprise running through his trembling body when he looked up to see Reyes looking down at him, not in pure rage, but on something bordering concern.

“Kid, talk to me, you look like a fucking wreck. What’s going on?” he questioned, dark eyes boring into Jesse, making him feel as if the Commander could see right through him, see every little dark facet of himself that he struggled to hide. Jesse swallowed thickly and chewed on his lip harder, fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, sighing as he tugged on his earring, attempting to make it look like he was just casually grabbing the back of his neck.

“I’m so fucking sorry sir, I just…I need a smoke. O-or a drink, or both! I ain’t never been more than a day or two without ‘em and I feel like I’m losing my damn mind. I can’t focus for shit and I keep tremblin’ and getting’ real sick at night. I’m sorry sir, I really am, but please, I just…I need something,” Jesse all but begged, his voice coming out hoarse and soft. Jesse stood there, chewing on his lip as he stared up at his soon to be Commander, fear and shame radiating off him in waves as he looped the tip of his calloused finger through the small golden ring in his ear. He didn’t meant to cause trouble for the man, he really didn’t. Trouble always seemed to have a way of finding Jesse though. The Commander straightened and acknowledged Jesse with a slight cock of his head, remaining completely mute. Then Jesse felt his stomach drop as the Commander silently turned and walked out the door, the lock clicking softly into place without a word. Jesse dropped to his knees, whole body trembling now, as a sense of dread overtook him. That was it, he had fucked himself. He was never going to join Blackwatch now.

 

 

Gabe walked down the bustling halls of the Overwatch compound, a scowl on his lips as he passed the other agents, not bothering to apologize as he forced them to jump out of his way. Maybe he should have checked on the kid sooner, should have made sure he wasn’t having issues. He knew the kid had a long list of shit that was wrong with him, he should have been more observant. Sucking his teeth, Gabe rounded a corner and peered into Jack’s office through a small window in the door. He wasn’t there…good. Gabe keyed in Jack’s code, having long since memorized it for less than ethical reasons, and quickly stepped inside the large office. Walking briskly over to Jack’s desk, Gabe leaned down and felt around the back of the polished wood until he found what he was looking for; a secret cabinet. Popping it open with a soft thunk, Gabe peered inside and was suddenly overtaken with a wave of sorrowful nostalgia. Inside the cabinet were little treats Jack and Gabe had saved for themselves when they had a minute to spare with each other. For Jack, there was a six-pack of expensive beer and a small package of candy bars, beside it was Gabe’s secret stash of liquors and several cartons of cigarettes. All of them sat there dusty and untouched…it had been a very long time since Gabe and Jack had made time for each other for anything besides screaming. Swallowing thickly, Gabe reached inside and grabbed a couple packs of cigs and then wrapped his fingers around the neck of a bottle of whiskey, gently puling it out as not to disturb the other objects hidden away. He left the bourbon and the vodka untouched and straightened back up, doing his best to wave off far distant memories of happier times. Tucking the paraphernalia into his jacket Gabe turned and hurriedly left the office, before more ghosts could catch up with him.

Reyes returned to the kid’s door and entered without knocking, eyes widening as saw the kid perched on the edge of his bed, violently shaking and biting his nails. The boy jolted when the door locked closed and whipped his head over towards Reyes and he could visibly see the glistening in the kid’s eyes. Christ.

“Here, kid,” Gabe offered sternly, pulling the bottle of whiskey out from his jacket, then a pack of cigarettes. The boy’s eyes widened into an almost owlish look, his red lip quivering as he took in the sight of the alcohol.

“You’re…you’re not sendin’ me to prison?” the kid whispered hoarsely, wiping his bleeding lip with the back of a shaky hand. Gabe made a face and huffed, taking a couple steps forward so he was directly in front of the young recruit.

“No, I’m not shipping you off, kid. You’re sick, you’re going through withdrawal,” Gabe informed, tossing the pack of cigarettes into the boy’s lap so he could unscrew the cap on his bottle of whiskey. The kid simply stared at the package, apparently too frightened or confused to dare open them. Reaching behind himself, Gabe tugged the small metal desk stool under him and took a seat, uncapping the whiskey and setting it on the desk before reaching over and snatching the cigarettes from off of the kid’s leg’s so he could tear it open.

“Withdrawal happens when your body gets hooked on a certain substance and is suddenly and completely deprived of it,” Gabe continued, trying to ignore the wrecked look on the kid’s face as he tore open the pack. “We probably should have just kept you in the med bay until you got all this out of your system so they could monitor your symptoms but I know you used to drink this shit like water and I never gave up smoking entirely and I don’t much care for feeling like a hypocrite,” he finished gruffly, once again offering the now opened package to the kid.

“Mil gracias,” the kid whispered throatily, shaky hands extending to grab the pack as Gabe’s eyebrows shot up. That was the second time the kid slipped into Spanish without noticing it. Gabe hadn’t payed much attention to it the first time, thinking that maybe it was just a phrase the kid had picked up living in New Mexico, but he was beginning to think the little desert brat was actually fluent. That was…an interesting concept. There was no one else in Blackwatch that Gabe could hold a conversation with in Spanish…this opened up a whole new language of insults in Gabe’s arsenal. He couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the corner of his mouth as he thought of barking out orders in his second language…he would have to start thinking of some affronting nicknames.

“You gotta’ light?”

The thick southern drawl drew Gabe out of his thoughts, turning his gaze to see the kid with an unlit cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, the split in his bottom lip turning the paper of the cigarette a slight pink where it met his skin.       Reaching into his back pocket, Gabe pulled out his small metallic lighter, its origin a bit too personal to delve into at the moment, and tossed it to the kid who just barely caught it, cradling the heavy metal object in his palms. Holding it up to his face, the kid’s eyebrows shot up as he inspected the lighter, nodding in approval.

“Damn boss, nice light,” he mumbled, Gabe’s eyebrow’s furrowing at being called “boss”. That was not one of the names he told the brat he would go by. The kid flicked the cap of the lighter off and pressed down his thumb, sparking the small flame to life, the miniscule bit of fire dancing in the kid’s shaking hands. He attempted to hold it up and finally draw some smoke into his lungs, but the kid was still shaking so badly that he couldn’t line up the flame. Grimacing, Gabe reached across the small space between them and wrapped his gloved hand over the kid’s, steadying it so he could finally light up. The brat’s eyes widened briefly at the contact, then he glanced up and locked eyes with Gabe as he took a long drag, cheeks hollowing as he filled his chest with smoke, almost burning a third of the cigarette in one go.

“Easy pachuco, don’t want to rush it do you?” Gabe mumbled, withdrawing his hand as the kid stilled, then laughed, plumes of smoke billowing out of the kid’s nose like some sort of degenerate dragon, flowing into Gabe’s nostrils and making him crave some nicotine himself.

“Damn, Jefe, I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” the kid drawled, an absolutely euphoric look on his face as he took another long drag, cheeks hollowing again and eyes closing in bliss. Groaning around the cigarette in his mouth, the kid held the smoke in for a good few moments before breathing out again.

“Commander to you, and yes, I speak Spanish,” Gabe deadpanned, watching as the kid once again blew smoke through his nose as he gestured to the bottle behind Gabe.

“Can I have a swig of that, Commander?” he drawled, that blissful look still plastered all over his face. Rolling his eyes, Gabe reached behind and grabbed the small glass bottle before handing it to the brat. The boy held the cigarette in between his two fingers with surprising finesse as he held the neck of the bottle up to his lips and turned it bottoms up. Gabe watched, almost impressed, as the kid gulped down several large swallows of the brown liquid before leaning forward and letting out a long groan.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s what I needed,” he whispered huskily, bringing the bottle back up to his lips, flicking his cigarette ashes into the bottle cap. When the kid released the bottle’s lip with a little pop Gabe couldn’t help but notice a little glint within the brat’s mouth, a tongue ring if Reyes recalled correctly. Snorting, Gabe stood to open the room’s small window, hoping to air out some of the intoxicating smoke. Jack really would have an aneurism if he saw this. Gabe walked back and emptied his jacket pockets onto the brat’s desk, several cartons tumbling out. Eyeing the stash, the kid took a final drag before flicking his cigarette out of the window.

“Damn, sir, looks like you’re savin’ my life again,” the kid grinned, his shaking finally stopping as tobacco, nicotine, and alcohol eased all of the brat’s anxiousness. Gabe was almost out the door when he turned, eyes cold and grin malicious.

“Oh don’t worry about that, pachuco. Blackwatch will make you repay me ten fold,” then Gabe was gone, door locking softly behind him.

 

 

 

It wasn’t until five weeks into Jesse’s probation that another unexpected visitor knocked on his door. Eyeing the clock, it was way too early for it to be his dinner and the Commander never bothered waiting for Jesse to reply so he was at a loss as to who it could be.

“’M decent,” he called when his door remained closed, standing up from his bed and placing his tablet on the desk. Suddenly his doors opened with a quick whir and there stood the most beautiful damn woman Jesse had ever seen in his whole god forsaken life. She was of average height, long black boots snaking up her thick legs, stopping just at the knee. A long royal blue trench coat was slung over her shoulders, striking against her golden skin even in the harsh florescent light of the hallway. Jesse hated the florescent lights and always kept his off, preferring the soft light of his bedroom lamp, which just made the woman’s image even more striking as she was surrounded by a bright glow in Jesse’s dark room. She had long silky black hair than fanned all around her shoulders and chest and stopped just around her breasts.

Jesse swallowed thickly and stopped that train of thought right then and there. What really made the color rise in his face though, what really set his heart thumping a lot harder than it should, was the distinctive tattoo under the woman’s eye. She was just about the closest thing Jesse had ever had to an idol…Captain Ana Amari of Overwatch. He stood there, slack jawed for a moment, before he remembered he was supposed to be a slick cowboy gangster who’s heart couldn’t ever be wrangled by no god damned woman. He had to protect his image.

“H-h howdy there, ma’am. Fa-facny meetin’ you here …”

Well fuck.

The woman, Miss Amari, chuckled and stepped inside, just a couple feet from Jesse, and he’ll be damned if his face didn’t set fire.

“Hello Jesse,” _oh no, her voice was so nice…_ ” do you know who I am?” she asked, her slightly pink lips parting with each word. Jesse tore his eyes from her mouth and decided to look absolutely anywhere except for where she stood.

“Mm, yes ma’am. You’re Ana Amari, Captain and sniper,” Jesse managed to get out without stuttering. Not looking at her helped with that. She laughed, light and breezy and it sent an electric jolt right through the entirety of Jesse’s body.

“Oh, I am flattered that you know me, cowboy,” she chuckled, taking yet another step closer so that she was just mere inches from Jesse’s chest. He was a good foot taller than her but Ana’s presence made him feel like he was a child, dwarfed by her intense stare.

“Do you know why I am here?” she all but cooed, reaching out to straighten Jesse’s wrinkled shirt.

_Oh god, this is it, this is how I die. They’ll have to put me down I can’t do this,_ Jesse lamented, holding back a squeak when he felt her fingertips straightening out his shirt.

“N-n-no Ma’am, I don’t,” he stammered, mentally swearing profusely at his strange inability to function in the presence of this woman. She chuckled again and took a step back, finally allowing Jesse to breathe again.

“Believe it or not, I was there when Overwatch attacked Deadlock and I had my eyes on you,” she began, Jesse’s heart jolting uncomfortably at the mention of Deadlock and he subconsciously took his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“I was…impressed. Imagine my surprise to find that, not only is the person killing my comrades a _child_ …he’s also using a little beat up pistol…” Ana continued, her voice calm but in her dark eyes Jesse could see thunderstorms. Suddenly, the little giddy feeling in his stomach curdled and turned into something cold and heavy, nestling itself deep within his gut. He palms felt clammy and Jesse bit his lip harder, eyeing the door and wondering if he could somehow make a run for it. Then a warm sensation was on his shoulder, her hand, squeezing him gently.

“At ease, child. I harbor no ill will towards you. Loss of life was to be expected…and we did attack you after all,” she comforted softly and Jesse felt something in his chest break, some little resolve there crumbling at finally hearing someone _admit_ it. Everyone here looked at him like he was murderous scum, all of them seeming to forget that Deadlock didn’t launch a surprise attack on Overwatch like a bunch of fucking cowards. They had simply fought. Jesse dropped his head so that his chin almost touched his bony chest.

“Yes ma’am,” was all he could say, suddenly too tired to make conversation. After allowing him a moment to collect himself, Amari titled his chin up with a slender finger so that he was meeting her eyes once again.

“How would you like to get out of this little room and have a bit of fun with me?” she asked, her smile coy and mischief danced behind her dark irises. Jesse felt his face catch fire all over again, his stomach turning molten once more. This woman was going to kill him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” was all he could manage to say.

Honestly, Jesse hadn’t been sure what Miss Amari’s little proposition was, didn’t dare to let himself dwell on it, but he still had never expected to find himself on a training range. He felt some sort of joy in his chest as she passed him a pair of safety goggles, that he quickly discarded, and a small training pistol. The gun was way too light and didn’t shoot real rounds, just rubber, but damn if it didn’t feel good to hold a gun again. Jesse shot Miss Amari a questioning and cautious look and she keyed something into the computer.

“Miss Amari, I don’t know how my Commander would feel about this…” Jesse mumbled, the visage of Reyes furious face enough to quell the giddy excitement the prospect of shooting might give him. She gave a little laugh at the surname Jesse gave her and shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

“Don’t worry about Gabriel, he won’t mind if I steal you away for a while,” she teased, giving Jesse a sly look as several training bots suddenly popped up across the shooting range. After his initial blush wore off Jesse couldn’t help but think his Commander had an awfully pretty name.

“Alright Jesse, just do your thing for a while, I simply want to observe,” called Amari from behind Jesse, sending a little tingling sensation up his spine. Jesse couldn’t wait until he got over this god damn little stutter when she was around, because as soon as he was able to speak, it would be over for Miss Amari. He was going to put the moves so hard on her she would want him to ask for her hand in marriage. The thought made him smile as he cocked his gun and aimed, not noticing the red glint forming in his right eye.

Round after round, simulation after simulation, Jesse fired. He didn’t really take notice of when he missed or hit a target, he just let the bullets fly. He was a trigger happy bastard and he knew that, he fucking loved it. It wasn’t until the lights dimmed over the range that he let his firing arm drop, adrenaline roaring through his veins. Dismayed, he turned to see Miss Amari rubbing her chin as she gazed at the training simulation screen.

“Athena, accuracy rate,” Miss Amari called out. Jesse turned, expecting to see someone else in the room but it was empty. Suddenly, a slightly electronic voice echoed throughout the room, causing Jesse to jump several inches in the air, earning a giggle out of Amari.

“Accuracy Rate: 98%,” the feminine voice rang out. “Agent was in the top five percentile of agents who participated in this course.”

Miss Amari clicked her tongue as she sauntered over towards Jesse, hips swaying in a way that caused his heart to go into arrhythmia.

“Not bad…for a beginner course, anyways,” she teased, cocking her head to the side, causing that long curtain of hair to fall to one of her shoulders. Gathering up some gusto he didn’t know he had, Jesse replied,

“My apologies, ma’am, I’m just a bit rusty and ain’t used to playing with toys,” he drawled, cocking his hips to the side and looping his thumbs in his waistband while placing the practice gun _just so_ on his upper thigh. “Give me the real thing and I’m sure you’d love to get a load of me,” he finished, a seductive smile on his lips as he flashed her just a glance of his tongue ring. From where he drew the strength to flirt so lewdly with the most decorated sniper in the world, he would never know, and if we were to be struck down right then and there he would have no regrets. It was all worth it to see her shadowy eyes widen and a deep red blush to erupt across her dark skin as her mouth parted into a little “o” of surprise.

“You dog!” she finally uttered, taking off her little beret and giving Jesse a few good slaps with it on his arms as she chuckled, the sound making Jesse’s head feel light. After the two finished laughing, Miss Amari gestured for Jesse to take a seat beside her over that the simulation computer.

“Now tell me, Jesse, who taught you to shoot like that?” she asked brightly, seeming genuinely curious. It was a question Jesse had been asked many times before in his life and people always seemed to be surprised by the answer.

“Ain’t nobody taught me, taught myself,” he replied earnestly, expecting the disbelieving look Miss Amari shot him.

“Really? When did you begin shooting?” she asked, obviously credulous about Jesse’s answers. Jesse leaned back and closed his eyes, visualizing the words he was about to say.

“Well, my Mama always had guns in the house, she showed me to shoot when I was real little and I just took to it. Shot cans and skeet whenever I could, was always askin’ for my own gun,” he murmured, just barely able to see his mother in their backyard as she steadied his hand and pulled the trigger. It made his chest ache…

“Mm…how do you feel about your mother teaching you to shoot when you were so young?” Amari questioned quietly, cautiously eyeing Jesse as if she knew she was very close to overstepping a boundary.

“I love my Mama, always will. She wanted to teach me how to fend for myself and that’s what she did,” Jesse answered protectively, eyes bright as he sat up and stared at Miss Amari, daring her to say otherwise. However, she only hummed and nodded, glancing up to the screen that still read “98%”.

“Did she ever say that you had a gift?” Amari continued, eyes still looking up at the bright screen. Jesse hummed and crossed his arms, looking out onto the range full of decimated robots, all riddled with a single bullet hole.

“Yeah…she said something to that effect,” he murmured, all this talk of his mother making his throat grow tight.

“What was it?” Amari breathed, her dark eyes boring into Jesse. Willing himself to meet her gaze, Jesse steeled himself and turned his head towards Amari.

“She said I was a natural born killer,” he said softly, hating the way Amari’s eyes darkened, hated the way her face hardened subtly. She didn’t say anything though, didn’t dispute it. How could she…they both knew it was true.

They both sat in contemplative silence for a long while, the two of them simply eyeing the range as Jesse toyed with the gun in his palm. Eventually, Amari stood and stretched, Jesse having to advert his eyes from the small flash of tan skin he saw form at her navel as she raised her arms over he head.

“That was certainly informative, thank you for spending time with me,” Amari said cheerily, taking the practice pistol from Jesse and tucking it away into a gun rack.

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine, ma’am” Jesse replied bashfully, jumping to attention and nervously biting his lip. Amari hummed in amusement and stood by the gun racks for a moment, seeming to contemplate Jesse as he stood there, causing a blush to creep up his neck.

“Say cowboy, how would you like to come practice here on the range with me until it’s time for you to join Blackwatch? I could train you a few days every week,” she offered, striding towards him with a coy smile on her lips. Jesse’s eyes went wide and he felt a smile threaten to split his face.

“That would make me very happy ma’am.”

 

The next few weeks flew by much quicker, Miss Amari taking Jesse to the range three and four times a week to practice his aim. She had him try all sorts of different guns, each one bigger than the last, some with huge blast radiuses, others that needed pinpoint accuracy. She would only allow Jesse to move to the next gun when he shot with perfect accuracy on the first three difficulties of the practice range, drilling him on not staying so stiff, forcing him to run and roll between shots. It was the most fun Jesse had had in a very long time .

As they walked to the practice range Jesse couldn’t help but be excited, she said that she had a treat for him today. He quickly scrabbled to get his mind out of a terribly deep gutter and focused his eyes straight ahead as they entered the practice range. When the doors closed behind them Jesse quickly slid in front of Amari and smiled flirtatiously.

“Alright, Miss Amari, what’s this treat you’ve so graciously prepared for me? Finally gunna’ let me take you on that date I keep asking about? Or am I gunna get a little kiss for being so good for you?” he purred, clinking his tongue piercing against his teeth for effect. She chuckled and set down her over the shoulder bag she always carried and began unzipping it.

“Believe me, cowboy, you will enjoy this much better than a date,” she replied between quiet laughter. Jesse was just about to ask how he could possibly enjoy anything more than time with her when she pulled something out of her bag. The words died in Jesse’s throat as Amari pulled out her rifle, her _personal_ sniper rifle, and extended it to Jesse.

“Here,” she offered quietly, pressing the gun into Jesse’s heaving chest. Jesse took it with trembling hands, feeling the weight in his muscles, the smoothness on his skin. This was the gun that had earned Amari global respect and fear…this was her most prized possession. Amari pressed her hand to Jesse’s back and guided him to the shooting range, his mind still too stunned to comment.

“Do you know how to hold it?” she asked quietly, breath rustling Jesse’s hair and making his whole body shiver.

“No ma’am,” he whispered roughly, eyes still glued to the gun. Suddenly, Miss Amari’s hands were on his, guiding them into the correct spots, gently curling his finger around the trigger guard, sliding his other hand to the end of the long muzzle, tucking the butt into his shoulder. Jesse felt like his heart might erupt out of his chest as Miss Amari pressed a palm to the flat of his stomach and one to his back.

“Breath in, keep it high in your chest,” she instructed, correcting the way his elbows were bent as he inhaled, stomach concaving and chest puffing out. She used her foot to kick his into the right position, circling him as she eyed him head to toe.

“Perfect stance…” she muttered and Jesse felt his blood run hot under his skin.

“Athena, prepare the course for sniper training,” Amari commanded suddenly, her demanding voice making Jesse lick his lips in anticipation. The course began shifting, extending further back, much further than Jesse ever could have thought possible. Once the metal walls had finished morphing, several miniscule humanoid robots began moving at the end of the range. They were so small that Jesse could barely make out the shapes, his blood beginning to rush at the thought of a challenge.

“Aim,” Amari commanded quietly and he did, bringing the scope up to his right eye, keeping his stance and steadying his breathing.

“Track the targets,” she commanded again, and he did. He began slowly swiveling at the hips, the barrel of the gun moving along with him as he zeroed in on a target, moving seamlessly from one to the next. He didn’t fire though. It had to be an order. His blood was singing with anticipation, whole body taught and ready to kill. He was holding Ana Amari’s gun in his hands, he could never imagine himself more ready than this. His right eye glinted crimson as his finger twitched over the trigger, ready, so ready for Amari to give him the order. Command him to kill.

“Jesse,” he heard her mutter softly.

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed, almost afraid his words would break the delicious tension in the air.

“Eliminate them,” came her command, stone cold with no option for discussion.

That was it, the tension snapped. The rifle cracked like thunder in Jesse’s ear, his shoulder jolting from kickback but he didn’t stop. Blasting the head off of one robot, he moved to the next, hips cracking like a whip to the next target, bullet tearing through its metal skull with ease. Jesse’s breathing was ragged, sweat was dripping down his brow, this was what he lived for. Blast after blast, Jesse didn’t stop. His right ear had a constant ringing and his shoulder ached from the butt of the gun repeatedly jolting back into his body, but he could care less. He was killing, clean and quick. Suddenly, much too soon, the robots stopped springing up and the lights dimmed over the course. Dismayed, he dropped his stance with a whine, wanting more, and he turned to beg Amari to reset the course, but she wasn’t looking at him. Suddenly a slow clap echoed throughout the shooting gallery, ringing even louder in his ears than the crack of the rifle. Jesse turned his head to see Commander Reyes standing in the entry way, clasping his hands together.

“Well look who’s out of his room…”

 

 

“Gabriel, really, there was no need to manhandle him,” Amari chastised as she dipped her tea bag into her cup, swirling it around in the steaming water. Gabe sat with Ana and Jack in a large conference room, discussing Gabriel’s most recent pet project, Jesse McCree. Ana was referring to the other day when Gabe had happened to check his tablet and noticed that McCree’s bracelet signal was not where it was supposed to be…in fact, it had been in one of the worst possible places: the shooting range. Gabe had jumped up from his desk and tore his way through the Overwatch facility, ready to throw that brat in a cell if he didn’t put a bullet through his head first. To say he was surprised to see McCree cradling Ana’s personal rifle to his chest while Amari herself watched was a severe understatement. His first instinct had been to grapple the gun away from the brat and suplex him into oblivion but, somehow, he reigned in his rage and just…watched.

The kid wasn’t shooting yet…he just stood there, barely breathing as Ana stood stoically behind him. Then he heard Ana almost whisper,

“Track the targets,” and the brat’s body had snapped to life, pivoting in place as he eyed the targets, hundreds off feet away at the back of the course. Still, he didn’t shoot. Gabe could actually see the kid’s trigger finger twitching, but he didn’t shoot. The air had been heavy with unbridled tension and Gabe found himself entranced, glancing at Ana, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she spoke.

“Jesse.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Eliminate them.”

Suddenly, rifle fire boomed through out the gallery, the kid was shooting round after round, sinking each target with a single shot. Gabe felt his jaw slacken as he watched the robots get picked off, one by one. The kid didn’t stop, didn’t miss, until all the robots were down, the kid’s perfect stance never wavering. Gabe turned, confused, to see Ana watching him with a knowing smirk on her face as the kid finished off the last round of bots. Turning his attention back to the kid, Gabe found himself smiling through a snarl. He knew he had found a gem. Finally, after all the bots were decimated, the kid lowered his rifle as the lights dimmed, actually emitting a soft whine at the loss. Sneering, Gabe had held up his hands and clapped in spite of himself. He may be an insubordinate brat, but damn if he wasn’t a hell of a shot. Gabe shook his head, putting his mind back in the present, and glared at his mug of coffee.

“You could have told me you were taking him out to train him,” Gabe retorted back to Ana who was eyeing him from across the table. She giggled and took a sip of her tea.

“Oh Gabriel, I’ve been training him for weeks now,” she replied as she lowered her cup, laughing when both Gabe and Jack gave her searing glares.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” she laughed, not sounding sorry at all, “I thought you would approach me sooner but you never did.” Gabe rubbed his temples, hearing Jack scoff across from him.

“I was back on the Blackwatch base, I didn’t think I would have to worry about Captains sneaking into his room,” Gabe grumbled, not enjoying the way Ana chuckled.

“You had better keep him locked up tight, he’s quite the charmer, Gabriel,” Ana cooed, taking another sip of her tea.

“The hell do you mean by that?” Jack asked incredulously, looking up from his phone for the first time, seemingly dismayed that Ana was enjoying her time with Gabe’s recruit.

“Oh, you should have heard him when I first let him shoot,” Ana quipped, waving her hand in the air as her cheeks dusted a light pink.

“Oh hell, Ana, what did he say?” Gabe griped, leaning back in his seat, almost afraid of her response.

“Well, when I teased him about using the beginner course, he told me that he wasn’t used to playing with toys, then assured me that the real thing was much better and that I’d love to, and I quote, ‘get a load’ of him,” Ana finished, covering her face as she laughed. Gabe and Jack exchanged disbelieving glances before Jack shook his head and scoffed.

“Christ…” he muttered, bringing his coffee up to his lips, blue eyes rolling.

“Oh, and he loves to flash that tongue ring of his, he’s always asking me to let him demonstrate how to use it,” Ana confessed, her cheeks heating up again as she laughed. Gabe and Jack simultaneously choked on their coffee, causing Ana to howl with laughter as the two Commanders spluttered and struggled to breathe.

 

 

Jesse was lying on his bed reading one of his final assignments on his tablet, nothing on except his pair of ill fitting Overwatch sweatpants, when he heard a soft rap at the door.

“Come in,” he called, assuming it was Captain Amari, and threw his tablet on his bed and quickly took another drag of his cigarette as the door slid opened. He turned and his cigarette almost fell out of his mouth when he saw Angela, Amari, and Commander Reyes all standing in his doorway.

“Aw shit, what the hell did I do now?” Jesse grumbled, face falling into a frown as the trio stepped into his room. Angela stalked towards him and plucked the cigarette from his lips, scowling at him as she tossed it out the open window. Jesse shot her a pout, then turned his attention to Amari, who ominously had her hands behind her back.

“You did something pretty big…” Amari said cryptically, a mischievous smile dancing across her lips as she slowly advanced towards Jesse.

“And that is…?” Jesse asked, getting nervous at the way the two women were grinning at each other. Suddenly, Angela began bouncing up and down and giggling.

“You turned eighteen!” she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. As Angela bounced in place Amari brought her hands from behind her back and presented a small cake with a candle on top. The cake itself was a rich yellow topped with opaque white icing and it smelled so deliciously of lemons and sugar. Ana was in front of him now, holding the cake to his chest as Jesse stood there in stunned silence.

“Happy Birthday!” Angela and Ana both cheered as Jesse slowly took the small cake in his hands, dumbfounded, staring at the little flame dancing atop the dessert. When was the last time someone had celebrated his birthday? How old was he? Ten…eleven? What kind of cake had his Mama baked? What did it look like…what did his mother look like? He couldn’t really remember… Suddenly, an overwhelmingly warm sensation bloomed throughout his chest, a warmth he hadn’t felt in god knows how long. He didn’t dare put a word to that feeling, too afraid that something in him would break if he did.

“Jesse…are you okay?” he heard a soft voice ask as gentle hands held his shoulder. He blinked and realized that his eyes had welled up to the brim with tears. Quickly setting the little cake on his desk he laughed and hurriedly brought his hands up to his eyes.

“Oh fuck, um, yeah, ‘m fine,” he laughed, blinking a couple times as he beamed at Angela and Amari who were looking at him worriedly. Gabe remained stoic against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the scene unfold in silence.

“I’m just…fuck…thanks…for everything,” Jesse murmured softly, looking at Angela, then Amari, finally resting his eyes on Commander Reyes who was still leaning against the wall.

“Come algo, calaca,” Commander Reyes called out, uncrossing his arms as he strode across the room until he was right in front of Jesse, staring him down.

“Enjoy yourself now, while you can,” he commanded lowly, those dark eyes boring into Jesse’s, causing his whole body to feel electric.

“Stating today, you’re Blackwatch.”

 

 

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

*wheezes* Mmmmmmmmm I finally finished, Jeeeeeeezus.

I’m sorry if Jesse was a wee bit OOC with all the crying, he’s just in a rough spot right now, okay, he’s doing his best

 

Jesse and Angela are bffs, Jesse has a crippling crush on Amari, to her great amusement, Jesse is the bane of Jack’s existence, and Gabe is there too!

 

Oh, Jesse’s middle name is based off of a Clint Eastwood character by the same name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 should be out within a week or so, currently under revision<3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took a little longer to post than I initially planned, something came up that I had to deal with. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with my story so far, especially those who commented <3
> 
> *quick trigger warning, there is a good bit of in depth discussion of guns in the first portion of the story, please just be aware, in lieu of recent events I understand that this might upset some people*
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> No Beta, sorry for spelling or grammar errors

*MMmmmm still not an AO3 member…might as well write some more >3>*

 

 

 

            Some part of Jesse refused to believe that the events of the past few months were real, refused to believe that he hadn’t just taken too much of some hallucinatory drug on accident and that he was still asleep back on his filthy mattress down in Deadlock Gorge, dreaming up this vivid fantasy. Last night Commander Reyes had come into his room at the Overwatch compound and informed Jesse that this would be his last night on sight, and that the next night they would be flying to the Blackwatch base to begin his training.

            “Something the matter, Jesse? You’re sulking again,” Captain Amari teased from where she walked ahead of him, leading him to his “surprise”. Swallowing thickly, Jesse shook his head and tried to keep his face neutral but it was difficult with so many emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Yesterday, Amari, his mentor, Angela, his first friend and doctor, and Reyes, the man who saved him from imprisonment and capital punishment, had all gathered in Jesse’s tiny bedroom to celebrate his birthday, and that was still something he was struggled to come to terms with, even as the sweet taste of lemons lingered on his tongue. It just seemed too good to be true.

            “Alright, here we are. I figured I would give you a little gift before you’re whisked away into Blackwatch,” Amari cooed as she pressed her palm to the keypad of an impressively large and reinforced door, drawing Jesse out if his thoughts.

            “Aw, Miss Amari, please, you’ve done so much for me, you ain’t got’ta get me nothin’ else,” Jesse muttered, looking down at his feet to keep himself from getting too sentimental. Amari simply smiled as the large doors hissed and began slowly sliding open.

            “Every agent needs a gun, Jesse,” she replied smoothly, her smile broadening as Jesse’s face tilted up, eyes widening in awe. Behind the door way was an enormous armory, shelves lined with rows upon rows of all sorts of firearms, setting Jesse’s pulse thundering.

            “Go on…take your pick,” Amari encouraged softly, gesturing for Jesse to follow her inside as she gently grabbed his wrist and guided him in. Gulping, he turned to her to make sure that this was in fact real and not a joke, and upon seeing her nod, turned back to take in his seemingly endless choices. Slowly, as if gravity had somehow just increased ten fold, he made his way to the first row. All of the guns seemed like large laser canons and blasters, not his style. Scrunching up his nose in distaste, Jesse continued onwards.

The next row was comprised of large automatic to semi-automatic weaponry, most of them adorned with huge clips and heavy belts, capable of pushing out hundreds of rounds of ammunition at a time. Excessive, impersonal, cowardly. Also not his style. Jesse continued to the next, noticing that the guns were getting smaller as he went on, which was a start he supposed. This row actually made Jesse pause and inspect it further, the sniper rifles too beautiful to pass by. His fingertips tingled as the memory of firing Amari’s personal gun ran through his mind, igniting his senses. That had been a thrill. Jesse didn’t notice the way Ana’s lips quirked up into a smile as he ran his hands over a particularly slim model, too engrossed in the way the muzzle shone in the bright lights of the warehouse. Even though the sniper rifle was stunning, and he truly had loved working with one, he just wasn’t a sniper. Jesse needed to be in the thick of things, needed to be close to his kills. Almost regretfully, he took his palm off of the rifle, continuing onwards.

            On and on he walked, taking his time and weighing his options. Shotguns were out, they were too broad for his tastes, pulse riffles just looked silly to him, they were too tiny and bubble like. One of his thick eyebrows shot up in absolute bewilderment as he saw an enhanced hunting bow, complete with a quiver and arrows.

            _What sort of asshole uses a bow and arrow?_ Jesse thought to himself incredulously, shaking his head. Ridiculous.

Finally, after what seemed like hundreds of guns later, he found the pistols. His pulse quickened as he scoured the gun racks with a critical eye, focus moving from one firearm to the next. He refused to settle on anything less than perfect. Suddenly, a glint caught his eye at the very end of the shelves, near the bottom rack. Squatting down and sitting on his heels, Jesse felt his grin turn feral as he set his eyes on a beautifully polished pistol…a six shooter, Colt Dragoon Revolver. Picking it up gently, Jesse gave the pistol a few turns, feeling its weight in his palm. The handle and the barrel were evenly proportioned, the trigger wasn’t too angular, it didn’t bother Jesse as he curled his finger around it and gave it a little test click. Licking his lips, Jesse flicked the chamber open, eyeing the empty holes devoid of bullets, before flicking his wrist and snapping the chamber back in to place. Then, Jesse saw the little detail that absolutely made his decision as he flicked his thumb over the safety; there could be no other.

The gun was a hair trigger. Hair trigger guns do not require for the safety to be off in order to be fired, the holder simply has to pull the trigger completely back towards the gun, which requires a good bit of effort if one was not accustomed to shooting. If the holder actually did pull the safety back on then only a breath of pressure was required on the trigger to fire off the rounds, the holder needed only place their finger down and the gun would shoot. It was Jesse’s absolute favorite style of weaponry. Jesse bit his lip in glee as he grabbed the butt of the gun and began twirling it, switching from his right hand to his left, then back to the right, almost laughing from how wonderful the gun felt in his hands. Finally, with a finishing twirl, he pocketed the gun in his pants, since he didn’t yet have a holster.

“I take it that’s the one then?” he heard a mirthful voice laugh. Emitting a little gasp, Jesse whirled around to see Captain Amari behind him with a smile on her lips, gazing at him almost proudly.

            Nodding vigorously and taking the gun back out, Jesse breathed, “Yes ma’am, she’s the one. All I need now is some bullets and I’m good to go.”

            “And what type of ammo do you prefer? I’ll have the gun personalized to your tastes,” Amari replied as she strode forward, taking the gun from Jesse and weighing it in her palm.

            “I used t’ use .45 Colt,” Jesse replied giddily, elated that Amari was giving him such an amazing gift. She frowned and glanced at Jesse, looking almost worried.

            “Mm…automatic long colt pistol rounds, yes? That’s more powerful than military grade weaponry allows…normally we cap our ammunition at ACP…the lengthened sub-sonic rounds make it extremely deadly…and dangerous,” she informed, frown still apparent on her face as she realized what sort of ammunition Jesse was used to dealing.

            “Yes ma’am, I know. Used t’ have explosive rounds too,” Jesse exclaimed almost sheepishly, unable to wipe his eager smile from his face. Amari’s eyes widened, then she shook her head, giving Jesse a tired look.

            “You’re too much, cowboy,” she sighed, turning and gesturing for Jesse to follow.

            “Yes ma’am, I know that too,” he grinned, bounding after her in unbridled excitement.

 

 

            “Ana, please explain to me why Torbjorn is in his workshop working on an ancient six shooter for you,” Jack bit out, an out of character scowl adorning his usually welcoming features. Gabe watched Ana roll her eyes as she dipped her tea bag into her tea cup, shoulders heaving in frustration.

            “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to, Jack,” Ana retorted, setting her cup down to steep as she cut her eyes over to meet the Strike Commander’s.

            “Ana, why the hell are you giving a customized Overwatch weapon to that brat?” Jack all but spat, standing on the opposite side of the small break room table, apparently too agitated to sit down.

            “Kid needs a gun, Jack,” Gabe cut in frankly, eyeing Morrison from over the rim of his coffee mug as he sipped it slowly, loving the slight burn as the hot liquid met his tongue.

            “Oh, so you’ve authorized this, I’m sure?” Jack seethed, directing his icy gaze towards Gabe. Gabe simply shrugged, not really understanding why he was so upset about it, just because Jack had preferred the standard military weapons didn’t mean every other agent did.

            “He asked for .45 Colt rounds, Gabe. That’s way too powerful, that’s above military cap,” Jack implored, throwing a gloved hand up in frustration. Again, Gabe gave a non committal shrug.

            “Kid needs a gun, Jack…and Blackwatch isn’t military,” Gabe finished, narrowing his eyes at Jack, daring him to say anything. Jack opened his mouth, as if to retort, but promptly shut it, scraping a chair out from under the table and collapsing into it in defeat. Ana sighed and stood, taking her tea with her, bid the two farewells, then left them alone. The air was heavy and thick, tension building between the two men, threatening to snap. Gabe swallowed thickly and stood, turning to go when he felt a hand tug at his sleeve.

            “Gabe…” Jack murmured softly, all the fire gone from his voice, leaving it sounding tired and weak. Gabe felt his heart stutter and he swallowed again, mouth suddenly feeling too dry, the room too small. Slowly, he turned to see Jack standing up beside him, still not releasing his grip on Gabe’s sleeve. His hold wasn’t tight, Gabe could have easily shaken him off…but he didn’t.

            “Jack…?” he questioned hesitantly, not really sure what was happening at the moment, afraid he might ruin whatever it was by speaking too loudly. Jack licked his lips and glanced away, looking distraught, before turning his gaze back to Gabe, eyes like stormy seas.

            “I…I know I’ve been a hard ass about this whole situation but…it’s because I don’t want you to get hurt, Gabe,” Jack implored, staring at Gabe with such an expression of hurt and concern that it made his chest clench.

            “You don’t have to worry about me, Jack, you know I’m durable,” Gabe laughed softly, trying to ease whatever it was that was eating at Jack, but the blond just frowned, the grip on Gabe’s sleeve tightening minutely.

            “You trust that kid way too much, Gabe. He’s too unpredictable; he’s a wild card. What if he’s luring you in just to stab you in your back? I just…I want you to be careful…promise me you’ll be careful around him,” Jack murmured, stepping closer to Gabe, his hand moving to grasp Gabe’s lightly. Gabe swallowed and felt the corners of his mouth tug into a frown, even as he interlaced his finger's with the other man's. Was he being too trusting? Was allowing Ana to get so close to McCree a mistake? He couldn’t help but think back to how happy the kid had seemed after getting his first shower, the way he stared in awe at a full meal, how his eyes lit up in astonishment as Gabe helped him light his cigarette. Was he getting too close? Suddenly Jack’s lips were on his and Gabe’s train of thought quickly derailed, his mouth automatically responding to the chaste kiss.

            “I promise,” Gabe murmured against Jack’s lips after they parted, gripping the other man’s hand tighter as their breaths mingled together. Gabe didn’t really understand where all this affection was coming from so suddenly, but he was starved for it, he wouldn’t question it just yet. Jack leaned in, as if to meld their lips together again, when his phone began ringing, Athena informing Jack of an important incoming call. Sighing heavily, Jack released his grip on Gabe’s hand and gave a dejected apology before answering his phone, quickly getting to business with whoever was on the line. Gabe just nodded, grabbed his mug of coffee, and left.

            _Yeah, that’s about right,_ he couldn’t help but grouse as he stalked down the hallway. Giving his head a quick shake, Gabe pushed all conflicting thoughts of Jack to the back of his mind, he needed to prepare to leave to the Blackwatch base.

 

 

 

            “Ow, damn, ya’ ain’t got to yank it so tight!” Jesse cried out as his hips jerked to the side, a leather strap tightening painfully around his waist.

            “Well, if ya’d quit yer’ squirmin’, I wounldn’t have to pull ya, now would I?”

            Jesse could not bring himself to believe that he was getting jerked around by the belt by what looked like a small barbarian, the short man’s limbs were corded with thick muscles and his face sported a long, and admittedly impressive, blond beard. One of his arms was a fucking _claw_ and the other had a firm grasp around a thick leather strap that was looped around Jesse’s waist, which the muscular man was using to unceremoniously haul Jesse around his small workshop.

            “Fuck, I’m sorry, I won’t mess with the gun no more, just stop man handlin’ me!” Jesse exclaimed, trying to pry the leather from his waist to no avail, blunt nails scrabbling uselessly against the thick material.

            “Ya’ can’t even sit still to let me fit ya’ fer your holster, I’m not about ta’ let ya’ near my workbench again, getting’ yer hands all over the gun before it’s even ready,” the short man countered loudly, grabbing a measuring tape from off a nearby table and bringing it to Jesse’s hips.

            “I can’t stand still cuz’ ya’ keep _manhandlin’_ me!” Jesse rebuted just as loud, throwing his arms over his head in frustration as the man adjusted the leather belt around his waist and began riveting a gun holster to the right side so that it hung midway down the outside of his leg.

            “M’ sorry about that lad, its just that yer’ such a slip of a thing!” the man chortled, much to Jesse’s embarrassment, as he continued working on the gun holster. “I’m used to haulin’ soldiers who got some meat on their bones, I don’t mean to throw ya’ ‘round the room,” the bearded man continued with a booming laugh. Jesse turned and put his hands on his hips, being careful to place them above the leather holster, and tapped his foot while he stared incredulously at Ana, who seemed to be having the time of her life watching the scene unfold.

            “You really just gunna stand there and let this man besmirch me like this, Miss Amari?” Jesse questioned, only kind of feigning irritation and hurt. “I thought what we had was special, now I’m startin’ to think y’all just keep me around for a good laugh,” Jesse pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and flipping his hair out of his face with a spiteful huff. Ana chuckled and walked over to the two, standing behind Jesse and placing her hands on either of his shoulders, setting Jesse’s entire face on fire.

            “Oh, you poor thing, do you need Mommy to come protect you from the big bad mechanic?” Ana teased, laughing softly as Jesse choked and covered his face with his hands and groaned.

            “M beggin’ you Miss Amari, I’m a weak man, you can’t just keep doin’ this to me,” Jesse mumbled from behind his palms, taking them off to weakly run them through is hair as he attempted to regain his composure. Ana gave a little laugh again, light and beautiful like wind chimes, before giving Jesse’s shoulders a light squeeze, then stepped away, much to Jesse’s disappointment.

            “Be careful with my little cowboy, Torbjorn, he gets feisty when he’s cornered,” Ana warned mirthfully, giving Jesse a little smile. The man, Torbjorn, looked up at Jesse with an inquisitive gaze, then continued his work on the holster.

            “Ay, yer’ little toy has some fight in him,” Torbjorn mumbled as he pulled out some leather varnish from the depths of his seemingly bottomless beard. Jesse’s eyes widened and he whipped his head over to Ana, his pout only slightly exaggerated.

            “Toy? Miss Amari, you’re doin’ me a great deal of hurt by not defendin’ my honor,” Jesse accused, crossing his arms again and canting his hips to the side while Torbjorn continued his work, grumbling lightly when Jesse’s hips moved.

            “Aw, but Jesse, you’re just so much fun to play with,” Ana teased, laughing behind her hand at the way a blushed crept up Jesse’s neck and colored his freckled cheeks.

            “Miss Amari, if you keep suggestin’ things so lewdly to me, I will be left with no choice but to wed you,” Jesse declared, a playful smirk on his lips.

            “What, no ring?” replied Ana, feigning disappointment, not realizing her mistake until it was too late.

            “Oh, I’ve got a ring I’m sure you’d more than enjoy, ma’am,” Jesse leered, licking his lips suggestively, flashing the steel barbell in his tongue for effect. This time it was Ana who covered her face, laughing into her palms as Jesse smiled triumphantly. Suddenly, Jesse’s hips canted to the side violently, causing him to hop on his foot a couple times to prevent himself from being splayed on the floor.

            “Don’t you be getting’ hot under the collar ‘round Ana, ya hear?” Torbjorn threatened, the much shorter man shaking his claw at Jesse to show he meant business. Jesse scowled at being tugged around again, but gave a resigned sigh, rolling his eyes. He continued to stand still while the mechanic flitted about the workshop, polishing the leather of his holster, making adjustments on his gun, and playing around with some ammunition. In the meantime, Jesse and Ana made conversation, discussing stories where each of them proudly stated some incredible feat they had accomplished with their shooting skills, interrupted every now and again by light teasing, or flirting on Jesse’s part.

            “Alright, lad, she’s all finished,” Torbjorn called, his booming voice causing Jesse to jump. Smiling excitedly, he quickly bounded over to the worktop on his long legs, barely able to contain himself as he vaulted over, grasping the workbench in anticipation. There, sitting on a polishing cloth, was his gun. Gingerly, Jesse reached down and picked the sleek weapon up, turning it over in his palm, cradling it in absolute adoration. A little detail on the butt of the gun caught his eye, and he giggled in bewilderment.

            “Is…is this one of my spurs?!” Jesse laughed out, carding a hand through his hair in disbelief. The bearded man chortled and nodded, throwing a bag up on the bench, the contents tumbling out which Jesse immediately recognized as the clothes he had been wearing on the day Overwatch had taken him into custody.

            “Aye, I had’ta adjust the barrel of th’ gun to accommodate the rounds ya’ wanted, so the balance of the gun was offset somewhat, so I figured I’d put a little personal touch on the end to help even it out,” Torbjorn explained, rummaging through Jesse’s things. Jesse laughed gleefully and began twirling the gun in his fingers, tossing it up and juggling it between his hands.

            “God damn, old man, it’s fuckin’ perfect,” Jesse breathed, smile threatening to split his face. Torbjorn rolled his eyes at the nickname, but seemed pleased with himself nonetheless. Jesse’s heart nearly jumped up his throat when Amar’s dark hands wrapped the gun holster around his waist and fastened it, buckling it on the side of his hip.

            “There…now you’re all set,” she smiled, gripping one of Jesse’s shoulders proudly when he holstered his gun.

            “Here lad, everything else is trashed but I figured you’d want this before I threw yer’ effects away,” the bearded man called, holding out his large hand to pass something to Jesse, who took it cautiously, turning it over in his palm. A large piece of welded metal rested coolly in his had, a one eyed skull staring up at him ominously, empty eye socket gleaming dark against the tarnished gold. It was his Deadlock belt buckle. Jesse stared at it a moment more before quickly pocketing it, wiping his face of any incriminating emotions.

            “Thanks, I ‘ppreciate it,” Jesse smiled, hoping it looked natural. Ana and Torbjorn seemed to buy it, they simply smiled back at him and both wished him luck with Commander Reyes. Amari escorted Jesse back to his room and sat at his desk as Jesse packed what few belongings he had into a little knapsack, grabbing his hairbrush, toothbrush, and a nail maintenance kit, all little gifts from Angela, and several boxes of ammunition from Torbjorn, and threw them in.

            “Are you nervous?” he heard Amari call as he walked out of the bathroom, knapsack in hand. Jesse shrugged and sat on the end of his bed and tugged a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, glancing out the window at what he could see of a vast cityscape. They weren’t his usual choice of smokes, but it was what he had and he certainly didn’t have any complaints.

            “Not really, to be honest,” he mumbled, eyes tracking a plane in the distance while he pressed an unlit cigarette to his lips. “Whatever’s goin’ to happen to me in Blackwatch c’aint be much worse than what happened to me in Deadlock,” he finished, something strange like a memory trying to make it to the forefront of his mind but he quickly tamped that down. Ana eyed him cautiously, remaining silent for a moment as Jesse took a cheap plastic lighter he had gotten from the convenience store and lit his cigarette.

            “It may be difficult in ways that you haven’t yet experienced, it will push you mentally and physically,” Ana warned softly as Jesse took a long drag, eyes closing in contentment.

            “Well, Miss Amari, it ain’t like I got a whole lot of choice in the matter,” Jesse replied after a while, a hollow laugh passing his lips as smoke wafted out of his mouth, rising and wreathing through the air. Ana grimaced at that and looked down, nodding minutely as a vague look of guilt overshadowed her features. Jesse winced and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, holding it delicately between two fingers as he angled his body to better face Ana.

            “Now don’t go lookin’ like that, ain’t your fault things turned out like this, I don’t need no pity. Did this to myself,” he mumbled, taking another long drag as he locked eyes with Amari, daring her to argue. She didn’t though, she just nodded and gave a small smile, but she still had that sad look on her face, her full lips pulled down in a slight frown and her dark eyes gleamed like storm clouds beneath her dark lashes. Jesse gave another little laugh, the sound dull and tired, as a song suddenly sprang to the forefront of his mind.

            “I am a man of constant sorrow, I’ve seen sorrow all my days,” Jesse sang softly, just loud enough to be audible in the small room. Part of him was self-conscious, he knew he was showing a side to Amari that only a spare few had seen before, but he trusted her with this moment. He continued to sing softly, eyes locked on the horizon as cigarette smoke encircled him, softly swirling in the breeze of the open window, dissipating as it curled higher and higher. Ana remained silent, watching the same horizon with Jesse, both of them seeing the sun slowly set, casting the sky in a bright pink light.

 

 

 

            “Alright, kid, you ready?” Gabe asked gruffly as he slung a backpack over one of his broad shoulders, eyeing his newest recruit as the two stood outside of a Blackwatch transport ship. The kid was eyeing the ship nervously, biting his bottom lip and his right hand playing with the handle of his new gun. Gabe eyed the holster and heard Jack’s voice running through his head, telling him this boy wasn’t to be trusted and that he would stab Gabe in the back.

            “That thing loaded?” Gabe questioned flatly, raising an eyebrow as he studied him. The kid cut his eyes over to Gabe then looked down guiltily, worrying at his lip even more as his hand gave a quick twitch and quickly moved away from the gun.

            “Yessir, ‘s got one bullet in it,” he mumbled dejectedly, as if he knew he did something he shouldn’t have.

            “Show me,” Gabe commanded calmly, steeling himself from flinching as the kid whipped the gun out of the holster and pointed it at him at lightening speed. For that brief flash of time, Gabe had believed that Jack had been right, and that this kid planned to kill him the second they got onto the transport. Instead, though, the kid just flicked his wrist to open the chamber, tilting it towards the Commander so he could see inside. There was just one bullet nestled inside the first compartment, glinting pale gold in the moonlight. Gabe glanced down into the chamber, then back up to the kid, one of his dark eyebrows raised.

            “Why just one, pachuco?” Gabe asked, allowing the kid to close the chamber and holster the gun again. The kid gave a little shrug then looked at his feet, shuffling his heels lightly against the tarmac.

            “Just got into the habit of at least havin’ one…in case I had to take care of…somethin’,” he finished vaguely, glancing up at Gabe from beneath his lashes, those honey hued eyes swimming with secrets. Upon seeing Gabe’s face, the Commander obviously not being happy with that nebulous of an answer, the kid frowned then held out his forefinger and thumb, shaping them into a finger gun, then pointed them up at his own temple, head jerking to the side as if he had pulled the trigger. Gabe’s eyes widened a fraction at that, making the kid scowl.

            “A little extreme, isn’t it?” Gabe grumbled, adjusting his pack over his shoulder as he eyed the kid wearily. The kid gave a little laugh, the sound harsh and hollow, before he met Gabe’s eyes again and replied,

            “Some shit just ain’t worth livin’ through, sir.”

            They held each other’s gazes for a long moment, studying each other silently, eyes exchanging things they didn’t quite understand. After what seemed like far too long, Gabe jerked his head to the side and gestured for the kid to board the ship, snapping whatever strange tension had formed between them. The kid’s eyes widened a bit, then he nodded, ducking his head and briskly walking past Gabe, eyes locked on his feet as he passed him. Eyes narrowing slightly, Gabe watched him as he entered the ship’s cabin, trying to figure the kid out. He was a strange bastard, that was for sure.

            Just as Gabe turned to follow, a flash of blue caught his eye, enough to make him turn back and look at the Overwatch base. At the end of the tarmac was Jack, looking conflicted as he stood with his arm stiffly at his sides, hands clenching and unclenching as he stared over at the transport. Something in Gabe’s chest softened as he laid his eyes on Jack standing forlornly in the pale moonlight and he found himself slowly raising his hand, offering a small wave, a sad smile on his lips. Jack’s lips parted, his foot jerking forward then abruptly stopping, as if he had to physically prevent himself from running over to Gabe. Reluctantly, Jack just ducked his head and offered a small wave of his own, expression screwing into that same resigned, sad face Gabe hated seeing, the face he had been seeing since he was named Blackwatch Commander. Then the ships doors closed, obscuring that small bit of blue that always made Gabe’s chest ache in one way or another.

 

 

 

            The feeling of flying wasn’t something Jesse had ever experienced, it made his stomach feel too heavy and his chest too light, something was just unnatural about being airborne. He was pretty sure he had been flown from the Gorge to the Overwatch base but he had been unconscious for most of the trip and delirious from pain and blood loss when he was awake, so he certainly wasn’t counting that as his first flight. Leg bouncing anxiously, Jesse looked around the small ship cabin, trying to find anything to focus on besides the only other occupant as his stomach performed acrobatics. Commander Reyes had already caught him staring twice before.

            Who wouldn’t stare though, the man was a legend. During the three months Jesse was holed up in that little room with nothing but a holopad, Jesse had done some research of his own. His Commander had been a war hero, he personally led the Overwatch troops to victory during the omnic crisis, he probably had more medals then he knew what to do with. Every time Jesse had followed Reyes through the halls all the Overwatch agents fell over themselves giving him salutes and respecting looks, eyes lighting up as the Commander passed. And yet…he didn’t lead Overwatch. Jesse had pondered over this, had searched up multitudes of articles on the matter, but nothing really went into detail about the situation. Most of the papers just claimed that Morrison had been picked as the better candidate. That didn’t sit right with Jesse, but he didn’t dare ask about it. Risking another scathing look from the man, Jesse glanced back over at Reyes again.

            He was a quiet man, it seemed, perfectly content to sit in silence while checking various things on his holopad. Jesse took stock of his outfit, eyes roaming from the man’s feet then upwards. Black cargo pants were tucked into dark combat boots that laced half way up Reyes’ calves, accentuating just how large the man’s legs were, his muscles swelling out from beneath the thick neck of his shoes. When Jesse had first seen Reyes he was so shocked that a man of that size had been able to scale the two story building with such ease, his muscles were corded thick under his tight combat gear, bulging out from beneath his clothing. The man’s thighs could probably crush his skull. Eyebrows furrowing, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder if Reyes had worked to build so much muscle onto his legs or if it was natural. Thinking back , the other man, Morrison, had been muscular too, but he was more broad in the chest area, his legs hadn’t been nearly as thick as Reyes.

Giving a little quirk of his eyebrow, Jesse decided it was probably a combination of working out and just being born like a brick house. Moving upwards, Reyes simply wore a black hoodie with a small insignia on each shoulder, one being Overwatch and the other was one Jessie didn’t recognize. Atop his head was a small black beanie, covering up whatever hair, if any, that the man had. His hands were adorned in their usual leather black gloves, the only part of his body that wasn’t covered in some form of black cloth was his face.

            Jesse quickly glanced away before he was caught again and stared down at the palms of his own hands, turning them over and examining old scars that marred his skin. All of his knuckles had some strange white scaring on them, whether it was from punching an omnic in a bar brawl or scrabbling against torn wooden floorboards as he fought a fellow gang member for his life, his tan skin was a latticework of white wounds. Swallowing, Jesse dared another glance up at Reyes and studied the man’s face, taking in the large scars that worked their way across the mans visage. His dark beard covered most of his chin and mouth but Jesse could still make out a little tell tale line that wound its way across Reyes’ lips. Jesse licked his own, wondering what it felt like to have a scar there. Did he even notice? Could he tell the skin was marred when he ran his tongue across it?

            “What?” he heard a deep voice huff, causing his heart to beat harder. Jesse’s eyes shot up to find Reyes staring at him with a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed and mouth a thin line.

Swallowing thickly, Jesse mumbled, “Was just wonderin’ what havin’ a scar on your lips would feel like.” Reyes’ eyebrows rose at that, apparently surprised at Jesse’s blunt honesty, then he rolled his eyes and looked back down at his holopad.

“Feels the same as all the other scars, pendejo,” he huffed, not looking back up at Jesse. Heat flared up in Jesse’s face as his spine prickled with embarrassment. He had been caught staring again. The next two hours were spent with him keeping his eyes glues to his own hands, refusing to be caught looking.

 

 

 

Reyes’ boots hit the tarmac with a loud thud, heavy back pack coming down on his shoulder as he surveyed the outside of the Blackwatch base. He heard softer footfalls behind him and a slight huff of air as the kid’s feet hit the asphalt.

“Welcome home, kid. You’ll be here for a long while,” Gabe informed him as he began striding forwards, not waiting for a reply. Vaguely, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the kid’s mind as he took in the property. It was nothing like Overwatch, inside or out. Instead of looking like a welcome center, the Blackwatch base was surrounded by laser powered fences, the occasional guard tower breaking up the immense walls. The building itself was dark grey and several stories high, looming ominously as the moon rose high overhead. The duo reached a door and Gabe promptly slid his glove off and pressed his palm to the scanner, the doors hissing open in response. Taking a couple steps inside, Gabe turned to face McCree after he heard the doors lock behind them.

“Alright, as of right now, you are officially Blackwatch which means you answer to me,” Gabe instructed lowly as he turned to face his newest recruit, boring into the boy’s eyes and leaving no room for debate.

“I plan on making you into a worthwhile agent, I will bend you into what I need, and if you won’t bend, then I’ll break you,” Gabe continued, voice quiet but eyes hard.

“Yes sir,” the kid responded quietly, his eyes narrowing a bit, as if he was sizing Gabe up. Gabe held their eye contact for a while longer before turning and gesturing for the boy to follow him.

The two walked down the relatively empty base, most of the agents were either sleeping or training, which was exactly why Gabe had chosen to take McCree in at the dead of night. He knew that many of his agents wouldn’t be too thrilled at the thought of a Deadlock member joining their ranks, they had lost a lot of agents down in that accursed gorge. He had already briefed them on McCree joining, and they had all agreed to accept that fact, but he sensed unrest among his agents. He had no doubt there would be trouble within the week.

A room had already been prepared for McCree while he stayed on the Overwatch base, essentially the same as his room had been there minus a bathroom and plus a darker color scheme. The two entered the small room and Gabe gestured to a set of clothes on the dark grey bedspread.

“Those are your training fatigues, you have three sets and will need to take them to the laundry bay when they need to be washed,” Gabe informed him, watching as the kid walked over and inspected the clothes. He continued,

“If you want to buy new clothes to wear on your off time you can order them online and have them delivered to a post office near the base, we don’t allow deliveries here. You get paid bi-weekly, spend your money how you like, just don’t do anything that would embarrass me,” Reyes finished, crossing his arms over his chest sternly.

“I get paid?” the kid asked, voice excited and lips turning up into a smile. Gabe simply nodded and gave a little huff at the way the kid’s face lit up.

“Don’t get too excited, it won’t be all that much,” Gabe mumbled as the kid sifted through his training gear.

“Be enough to buy some smokes,” the kid replied cheekily, giving Gabe a sly smile. Gabe simply rolled his eyes in response and pointed to a tablet sitting on McCree’s nightstand.

“That is your new holopad, it will give you all the information you need. It will have your schedule as well as a map of the base. If you have any questions about where to go or what to do, simply ask Athena and she should be able to tell you everything you need to know. Your training starts tomorrow, early, so be sure to set an alarm so you can get up and eat,” Gabe informed, watching as McCree grabbed the little tablet and began poking around on it curiously.

“Yes sir, sounds good. So…I can…walk around…by myself?” the kid asked, looking up skeptically, obviously unsure of where his boundaries were now. Reye’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back at McCree, taking in the young man before him.

“You’re not on probation anymore, so yes, technically you can walk around most areas of the base, but…you don’t have friends here, McCree. Your people killed a lot of my agents and they aren’t exactly thrilled to have you here,” Gabe murmured, watching as the kid’s eyes widened then turned impossibly cold.

“Well, ain’t that just so unfortunate for them,” McCree spat, tossing his tablet onto his bed, face contorting into a sneer, his eyes locked onto Gabe’s. “Maybe if they didn’t come into our territory then they wouldn’t have gotten their asses killed,” he raged, his voice dripping with icy venom as his brown eyes turned dark.

“Watch it boy, you just got here,” Gabe growled lowly, narrowing his eyes as he clenched his fists at his sides, giving McCree a warning glare. The boy’s chest rose and fell harshly, face contorted in anger as he stared Gabe down. Gabe could hear the pounding of his pulse and his ragged breathing, the kid’s mouth opening then snapping shut. After a long stare down, McCree tore his eyes away with a hiss, choosing to stare angrily at the wall instead. After a tense moment, McCree took a deep breath.

“I ‘ppreciate you not haulin’ me off to jail, but you keep seemin’ to forget that we didn’t attack ya’ll, ya’ll attacked us. It ain’t right to hold a grudge against someone who was just defendin’ themselves,” he objected softly, eyes meeting Gabe’s again, his temper still apparent in those dark brown irises. Gabe simply gave a twitch of his lips, keeping his face more or less emotionless.

“It was just a warning, McCree, my agents aren’t happy about this. It may not be fair, but that’s how it is. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that life isn’t fair,” Gabe said finally, crossing his large arms over his chest as he addressed his recruit. McCree’s eyes widened a fraction, then he barked out a humorless laugh, hard and harsh.

“No sir, I sure fuckin’ don’t.”

 

 

McCree stumbled into his room and collapsed onto his bed, his whole body felt leaden and everything hurt, his limbs slowly throbbing with each breath. His first day of training had been…absolute hell. He had heeded his Commander’s word and set his alarm early so he could drag his ass to the cafeteria to eat, which Jesse deeply regretted when he was forced to run so much that he almost vomited. His training fatigues were skin tight, his shirt didn’t bother him, it just seemed like an athletic t-shirt, and the black was a huge improvement over the Overwatch colors he had been wearing. The pants were the issue. Jesse had never worn anything other than jeans for the entirety of his life, so the skin tight, thin athletic pants were…a difficult switch.

The first issue was that they were an absolute bitch to get on, Jesse had to grab fistfuls of the fabric to tug them over the small swell of his thighs, then they adhered to his skin once he got them pulled up, the fit almost too tight to pinch between his fingers. Next there were the small strips of mesh right around the upper inner thighs, to help keep him cool he guessed, but it just made Jesse feel uncomfortable to feel air breezing past his nether regions. Speaking of, he had also been forced to wear, not only underwear, but compression underwear. He had tried going commando in the pants but…it was a lost cause, you could very clearly see the outline of his dick though the thin fabric. Reluctantly, he had peeled the fatigues back off and tugged the compression shorts on, grimacing at the way they pinched him and pressed against his body.

Another issue was that the all black ensemble really accentuated just how fucking skinny he was, his hip bones still very visibly jutting out, as well as his shoulder blades and vertebrae. He had managed to gain some weight from eating regularly but he still had no muscle mass to speak of, his limbs were still quite slender, with bones jutting out from his joints. Frowning, Jesse ran a palm down his back and over his waist, feeling all the bumps of his protruding bones. Sighing, he slipped on his socks and shoes, resigning himself to looking like an emaciated teen amidst a sea of ripped Blackwatch agents. Finally, after a lot of tugging and swearing, he was dressed. That was just the start of his troubles though.

In the mess hall Jesse had simply found an unoccupied table and ate there alone, but he still felt glares from every corner of the room. Whenever he caught someone staring at him, he’d either wink facetiously or snarl, it all deepened on how much bloodlust was written on their face. When his actual training began, Commander Reyes had not gone easy on him. Apparently, it was nearly unheard of for someone to simply join Blackwatch without having military training beforehand, so Jesse had been the least experienced and athletic recruit of the bunch. Commander Reyes seemed set on whipping Jesse into shape ASAP so he had forced Jesse to work to the point of nearly passing out. He had completed obstacle courses with exceptional difficulty, his arm strength being his biggest weakness as he struggled to pull himself over bars and fences. After cataloguing those results, he ran. He ran for what felt like hours, days even. Sprinting was something Jesse prided himself on, a skill he had perfected in too many close calls with cops to count. Stamina though…that was a different story.

Only when Jesse felt like his lungs would literally split within his chest did Commander Reyes allow him to stop, and Jesse had collapsed to all fours immediately, his hair a sweaty mess and his clothing damp and uncomfortable as it clung to his skin. After a brief recovery time, he switched over to strength exercises, going through an array of workout equipment meant to test every muscle in his body. At lunch, Jesse could barely force down an apple, his stomach hurt from doing abdominal workouts and he still felt slightly nauseous from his excruciating run. He had bypassed eating dinner entirely, instead going to his room to collapse on his bed. He lied there, panting, wincing every time his stomach muscles contracted, and cursed his body for being so damn weak. After a long while, Jesse forced himself upwards, his arms trembling ferociously as he pushed himself up. A small whimper escaped his lips as he stood up, his stomach contracting painfully as he straightened his torso.

_Maybe a hot shower will help take the edge off…_ Jesse thought sullenly to himself, checking his holopad for directions before making his way to the showers, finding that he desperately wished Angela was there to make him feel better. Or at least give him some drugs, damn. It was disappointing to find that he wouldn’t have his own bathroom like he had at the Overwatch base, but heading to the showers was a good excuse to look around the base. He made it to the shared bath with little difficulty, only getting a little turned around in the process. There were three separate bathing facilities, all of them being gender neutral, so Jesse picked the middle one and made his way in. As he stood outside one of the shower stalls he heard the door open and close as he tugged his shirt over his head.

“Hey, Deadlock.”

Ah…so it wasn’t even going to be a fucking day…

Jesse finished pulling off his shirt and turned to see who he was going to have to cuss out and saw that there were actually four people standing behind him…and one of them had a pocket knife in their hand. Immediately, Jesse’s flight or fight response kicked in, and running didn’t seem to be an option.

“The fuck y’all want?” he drawled, turning to face them and keeping his knees slightly bent, ready to spring at whoever got too close. One of the figures stepped forwards, a tall man with a bulky chest and murky blue eyes.

“You don’t remember us?” the man asked, his lips curling back in a snarl. Jesse simply shrugged nonchalantly, resting his hands on his hips in a faux show of relaxation. The man took another step forward and Jesse narrowed his eyes and tensed his body, even as his overtaxed muscles screamed in protest.

“You killed two of our friends in that fucking storage room and shattered my knee,” the man growled, taking yet another step forwards. Jesse was confused for a moment before he remembered being holed up in the back of the Deadlock warehouse when six agents had busted in and killed two of his fellow gang members. Jesse had unloaded his gun on them in a desperate act of panic before jumping up and crawling through a ventilation grate. Jesse took a step backwards and barked out a laugh, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Aw, yeah, I remember y’all now. I remember six of you takin’ on three of us…and I certainly remember puttin’ a bullet through your friends’ thick skulls,” he drawled, his face a malicious smile. He knew he was outnumbered and his best bet was to shut his mouth, but unfortunately, that was not a skill he possessed.

“You piece of trash,” one of the other figures shouted, a shorter woman with a buzz cut, and she took a few ferocious steps forward towards Jesse.

He continued, “Maybe if you stupid fucks had stayed the hell out of our Gorge then we wouldn’t have had to kill so many of you,” he sneered, enjoying the flashes of grief and pain that passed over the agent’s faces. Then the man in front of him lunged and Jesse quickly side stepped, hissing as bursts of pain shot through his over exerted calves. Suddenly, strong arms looped under his armpits and he felt hands on the back of his head as his feet lifted off of the ground, the tips of his toes barely able to touch the floor. The hold made it impossible for Jesse to move or swing his arms as the large man lunged forward and punched him directly in the stomach, causing a whole new wave of pain to erupt throughout his torso. Snarling, Jesse reached his hands back as far as they would go and looped his fingers through his captor’s hair, wrenching at it with all his might. He may not be a trained black ops agent like these people were, but he grew up hard and he knew how to fight dirty.

The person holding him hissed and tilted their head back so Jesse jerked and jammed the crown of his head into their nose until he felt it crack. The hold loosened and Jesse jumped forward, running on instinct and adrenaline alone. The second his feet touched the floor he lunged forward, taking a jab at one of the agent’s necks, which they swiftly avoided. Jesse eyed the door and decided to make a dash when he felt his feet get knocked out from under him, causing his body to flip up into the air before crashing back down on the cold bathroom tiles. Before he could even get his bearings there were hands on his wrists, pinning them above his head as he was forced onto his back. Another agent held his right knee down while the large man planted himself on Jesse’s chest, causing him to gasp out as his stomach compressed painfully. Jesse squirmed and jerked but he was held fast, there were four of them, all of them far stronger and far better trained. He couldn’t move…he couldn’t breathe.

Jesse’s throat suddenly felt too tight and his whole body felt heavy and cold. He had felt this sensation before, this sickening feeling of being powerless, forced and held down. Memories began bubbling up to the surface of his mind even as he attempted to tamp them down, panic beginning to set in. He felt nauseous.

“You stupid fuck, the Commander should have left you in that desert to rot with the rest of your filthy friends,” the man hissed as he grabbed Jesse’s chin and tilted it upwards, baring his throat as the agent pressed the blade of his knife to the swell of Jesse’s Adam’s apple. The feeling of having his head forced back and throat exposed was so familiar that Jesse’s body automatically reacted and went limp, his mind immediately shutting down in defense of whatever was about to happen.

 

 

Gabe walked briskly through the halls as he casually flipped through his holopad, assigning missions and rearranging schedules, his usual. After completing a pile of paperwork he decided to make his was to one of the break rooms to grab a quick bite to eat before returning to his office when a muffled shout caused him to stop in his tracks. He stopped and stood still, focusing his acute hearing on finding any unusual sounds or movements. He picked up on faint voices, the tones sounding heated, then an eruption of scuffling sounded out. Gritting his teeth, Gabe rounded a corner and found that the noise was coming from one of the bathrooms, the middle facility it seemed. Silently, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He soundless shut the bathroom door and felt his pulse skyrocket as he saw four of his agents holding down McCree, the boy’s body completely motionless as a man sitting on top of his chest pressed a knife to his throat. Gabe was so stunned at the scene that he didn’t speak for a solid couple of seconds. Then his voice came back to him as he clenched his fists, teeth audibly grinding.

“What the fuck is going on here?” he seethed, watching as his agent’s all jumped and quickly scrambled to get off of the floor, stepping away from the man they had been holding down.

“Commander,” one of his agent’s breathed, her face turning pale and he eyes widening in fear. Even though he was no longer being held down, McCree remained motionless on the floor, a droplet of blood sliding languidly down the curve of his neck. Gabe took a few steps forward, watching as his agent’s cowered and bowed their heads.

“I want all of you in my office, now,” he ordered, his voice cold, eyes bright with anger.

“But sir, we were just-“

“Get out of my sight,” Gabe whispered harshly, remaining motionless until all four of his agents quickly exited the bathroom, presumably to go to his office and pray for their lives. When he heard the door close, Gabe quickly knelt down by the boy and inspected him, looking for any critical injuries. The kid was shirtless, but Gabe couldn’t see any bruising or lacerations on his chest, eyes quickly roaming up to the boy’s neck. It looked like the knife had just nicked his skin, possibly when Gabe caused his agents to jump, subsequently forcing his agent to press the blade down. Frowning, Gabe took in the kid’s face, which was completely placid and devoid of any emotion, his eyes glazed over as if he were in a coma. Gently, Gabe pressed the palm of his hand to McCree’s cheek and gave it a couple light slaps.

“Hey, come back to me, kid,” Gabe ordered softly, feeling a little wave of relief when the kid’s eyes widened and he blinked rapidly before sitting up, immediately wincing afterwards.

“Mm…sir? Why are you…we on the bathroom floor?” McCree mumbled, almost sounding drowsy as he blearily glanced around.

“Do you remember anything about being on the floor?” Gabe asked sternly, frowning when the boy just stared quizzically back at him.

“I remember…I think I was in a fight and…I don’t know,” he muttered quietly, his cheeks turning a slight shade of red underneath his freckles, most likely from shame.

“Do you know what happened?” he mumbled softly after a beat of silence, staring at his palms blankly. Gabe simply stood and offered his hand, hauling the kid off of the floor and pushing him to one of the shower stalls.

“Just get in the shower, pendejo, you reek,” he muttered, turning to leave and head to his office. He would figure this out one way or another.

Gabe returned to his office to find the four agents all standing shoulder to shoulder, each looking some varying form of terrified. Narrowing his eyes, he very slowly and deliberately pulled is office chair out and sat at his desk, arms crossing over his chest as he eyed the four agents across from him. Their heartbeats thundered in Gabe’s ears, a sure fire sign of guilt. He kept them all in suspense for a few solid minutes, boring his eyes into theirs and watched as they slowly began to crack, some of them wrung their hands while others chewed their lips.

“So…who’s going to tell me why the four of you were attacking a fellow Blackwatch agent,” Gabe asked finally, voice as steely and cold as his eyes.

“He’s not Blackwatch,” one of them spat, a young woman he had gone on several missions with. Eyes narrowing, Gabe stared at her, her snarl slowly melting away under his domineering gaze.

“He is. I discussed this with the lot of you already. This is unacceptable,” he stated icily, leaning forwards on his desk, the wood creaking beneath his weight. The woman swallowed and hung her head, unable to hold his gaze.

“Now tell me what happened, don’t make me watch the footage,” Gabe commanded, leaning back in his chair. After a beat of tense silence, one of them cleared their throat, the man who had held the knife to the kid’s neck.

“We were walking through the halls and we saw him round a corner…we decided to follow him,” his agent began, steeling himself and meeting Gabe’s gaze.

“Why?”

Swallowing, the man continued, “He killed Samuel and Ashna, put a bullet in all of us too. He doesn’t deserve to be here. He doesn’t deserve to live,” he finished with a growl, face growing red with anger and grief. Gabe tipped his head back and eyed the four agents, keeping his face as unfazed as possible.

“Do you all feel like this?” he asked quietly, voice revealing nothing. After a moment of sideways glances, they nodded. Gabe pulled out his holopad and typed something into it quickly, then slapped it onto his desk.

“The four of you are off missions until further notice, you will remain on base and won’t be scheduled for group training sessions,” Gabe informed them, crossing his arms back over his broad chest as he addressed them.

“Sir, why?” one of them cried out, all of the agents looking dismayed. Leaning back, Gabe eyed them all individually, making sure they could all see the hardness of his gaze.

“You four are clearly not in the right mental state to deal with this right now, I can’t afford to have you out in the field or somewhere where you could hurt other agents. You’re off duty until I deem you ready,” Gabe replied, voice firm but not cruel. While physically threatening a fellow recruit was strictly against his policy, he understood where it was coming from. The kid had killed their friends right in front of them…recovery would take time. After he dismissed his agents, Gabe leaned back and sighed, tugging his beanie off of his head so he could card his gloved fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the loose curls as he pressed back further into his chair. It had been…an interesting day.

The kid’s physical state had been about what Gabe had expected, he had little to no stamina and his strength was next to none. He could sprint at a decent speed but only for short bursts. As Gabe had assumed, it would take at least half a year to get the kid’s body into a strong physical state, then he could start training him in hand to hand combat. Gabe had worked the kid pretty hard today, he was probably in a lot of pain. Which reminded him…

 

 

Jesse slowly padded back to his dorm, face screwed into a grimace as his stomach contacted, the bruising punch to his abdomen only accentuating the pain he was feeling from his over exerted muscles. He bit his lip as his calves convulsed, sending burning tremors all along his legs as he walked, each steps shooting little spikes of pain through his nerves.

_What a fucking day._

Heaving a great sigh, he huffed and flipped his damp hair out of his face, expression twisting into a scowl. He hadn’t even been an agent for a full twenty-four hours before he was getting his ass beat, not to mention he did that… _thing_ where his mind just…blanked out. Jesse felt his lips tug down into a deeper frown, he still didn’t know why or how he did that. It certainly didn’t happen every time he had a fight, there were plenty of scraps he could remember pretty vividly, but then there were those few times where he felt hands on his body and he just…stopped. His mind just went blank. Jesse shook his head and gave a little huff. Hopefully had had broken that one guy’s nose at least.

Jesse made it back to his dorm and as his door slid closed he noticed a package sitting on his bed, eyebrows furring in suspicion as he eyed the small white box. Slowly, he walked over to the unusual package, peering down at it as he cautiously stretched out his hand. Just as his fingers brushed the surface of the box, a feminine voice chimed, sending Jesse several inches in the air.

“Agent McCree, Commander Reyes sent these biotic shots for you to use after training sessions. They will heal your muscles and prevent soreness,” Athena informed him, Jesse sending the ceiling a scowl for startling him. Swallowing, he pulled the box apart to find a package of about 20 shots or so, all filled with a dimly glowing golden liquid, small shining bubbles bobbing slowly inside the capsules. Gingerly, Jesse reached down and grabbed one of the shots, the small item only as long as pinky finger or so, and turned it over in his palm. After a moment of inspection, he uncapped it and then took his index and middle fingers and gave the crook of his arm a couple slaps, prepping the skin for administration. He had shot up plenty of times, he knew his way around a needle.

            Without hesitation, Jesse pressed the sharp point into his skin, sinking the entire needle down until the plastic barrel wouldn’t allow it any deeper, the small sting of a pain a familiar comfort. He then pressed his thumb down on the plastic plunger and watched with slight fascination as the lustrous liquid slowly disappeared into his body, the golden glow passing visibly beneath his tan skin. After a few moments, he felt a warmth flowing throughout his frame, soothing his aching limbs and throbbing muscles, relaxing his entire body from the inside.

            Suddenly, his exhaustion hit him all at once, Jesse barely having enough conscious sense to pull the needle from his arm before he passed out entirely, head slamming backwards onto his plush pillow. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep, his body humming warmly as his pain slowly ebbed away.

            The next few weeks were more of the same, he got up early, ate, busted his ass in his morning training, ate again, sometimes threw up, then trained until dinner. Every night before bed, Jesse would take one of his little shots the Commander had sent him and press it into his skin, enjoying the minute sting of pain before it ebbed away into glowing warmth. It had become a comforting habit.

            Jesse had formed another habit that was far less…pleasant. When he was training it seemed that he was incapable of not meeting his Commander’s eyes, their gazes always seeming to lock while Jesse was completing drills. He supposed it was normal for the Commander’s eyes to be on him as he trained, the Commander was monitoring his condition and all that. Still though…it just made Jesse…burn.

            Jesse had always had an issue with authority, he hated taking orders and he hated being supervised, but this was something else. He didn’t resent the Commander, not really. Sure, Blackwatch had taken him away from his home but…the Gorge hadn’t really felt like home in a long while. How many nights had he spent wondering what the rest of the world was like, wishing he could will himself into hopping on his bike and just driving away? Well, guess he wouldn’t have to wonder any more. Reyes had seen to that. Jesse just wanted to prove he was worth the trouble, wanted to prove it something fierce.

            In the gang he had to fight just to live, show his skills just so the other members wouldn’t fuck with him. Here though, he knew these people wouldn’t hurt him, not like Deadlock would. They may hate him, and they may fuck with him, but they couldn’t hurt him. They had rules in Blackwatch, it wasn’t a lawless hellhole, Jesse didn’t have to train like his life depended on it…so why was he trying so damn hard? He found himself pushing his body until it trembled, forced one more pull up, drove his feet harder down on the track as he ran, went hard until his hair was slick against his forehead and his lungs felt like they might burst inside of his heaving chest. All the while, he would look, gaze searching until they found Commander Reyes’, their eyes locking as Jesse breath came out hard and ragged, rivets of sweat sliding languidly down the small of his back beneath his soaked black shirt. The Commander never looked away, nor did he ever ask Jesse why he always stared him down during his exercise drills. Each time it happened Jesse’s blood sang with determination and his already thundering pulse thrummed harder against his veins, heart pounding in his ears.

            He was running on the track currently, one of the very few activities where he felt he could keep up with the other agents, when it happened again. As Jesse’s long legs carried him across the track his eyes were scanning the premises, looking for that foreboding dark form when he heard a familiar voice bark out an order, Jesse’s head whipping towards the source of the sound. His eyes found Commander Reyes, the man ordering some other agent to go to one of the many training courses, face his usual scowl as he clutched his holopod in one of his gloved fists. Then his eyes found Jesse’s. When their eyes locked a singular thought ran through Jesse’s mind, the same thought he always had when he met those dark irises.

            _Watch me. I’ll show you._

            Then his feet hit the track harder, adrenaline pumping through his veins, body going harder knowing that the Commander was watching him. Jesse had to prove something, he didn’t know why, and he didn’t really even know what, but Jesse just had to prove that he was worth something. Worth saving. Soles pounding down harder, Jesse found himself at the front of the group now, leading the pack of sprinting agents as he put every iota of effort into reaching the end of the track, eyes locked on the finish line painted on the ground, the searing feeling of the Commander’s eyes boring into his back driving him forth. He flew over the finish line, several feet ahead of the other agents now, chest heaving as he turned to see the Commander. He stood a good bit away but Jesse could see that his arms were crossed over his chest and he was, indeed, still watching. After a moment the Commander turned and walked away, barking orders at some other agents from across the training course. At the absence of the Commander’s domineering gaze the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion kicked in, Jesse bending over to place his hands on his knees as he panted.

            “Cheeky bastard, you’ve got some long legs,” Jesse heard a voice pant behind him, turning his head just in time to catch sight of an agent clapping him over the shoulder as he passed by. Jesse’s eyes widened at the gesture, it was really the first non-hostile interaction he had had with another agent since his arrival at Blackwatch. Straightening slowly, he turned and eyed the agent, giving a little laugh. The man was tall, a bit taller than himself, with pale skin, sandy blond hair, and light brown eyes, a little smile on his lips as he addressed Jesse.

            Between pants, Jesse responded, “Yeah, the cops always seemed to think that too,” he replied with a little laugh, testing to see if this agent knew who he was. The agent’s eyes widened a bit and his smile fell, and Jesse was ready to write the man off, when suddenly he laughed, clapping Jesse hard on the shoulder again.

            “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you talk! You’re a funny guy,” the man laughed, catching Jesse off guard, but he found himself smiling in spite of himself. As the two delved into conversation as they jogged to the next course Jesse didn’t notice eyes tracking his back from across the field.

 

 

 

            Gabe sat in his office and reviewed the training results of the past week, eyes roaming over numbers and statistics as he jotted a few things down in a little notebook on his desk. He reached a file that made him pause, scanning over the words languidly as he reached for his mug of coffee and took a long swig, the hot liquid burning down his throat while he read over the text.

Jesse McCree…the boy was making surprising progress. It had been less than two weeks since his arrival but the boy’s stats were already starting to rise, he was even beginning to build up a small amount of muscle mass on his gangly limbs. Gabe’s lips tugged into a frown, his eyes remaining on the data but not really seeing it. During training sessions he always caught the boy staring him down, those brown eyes boring into him from across the field. It was like he was challenging him in some way, daring Gabe to look away from him. Gabe indulged this strange behavior because it seemed that while being watched the kid performed better, working harder like he had something to prove. Such a little ingrate. Huffing, Gabe sat the file down and took another long sip of coffee. Well, it got results, and if these physical improvements kept up then Gabe may even be able to start training him in hand to hand combat sooner than expected.

Picking up the file again, Gabe found himself grimacing. He was going to have to start interrogation and torture training soon… Sighing, he quickly typed up an email and sent it over to McCree, scheduling the first session for the beginning of next month. In the field there was always the possibility that Blackwatch recruits could be captured, and since the organization dealt with so much sensitive information, Gabe had to be sure his agents were prepared to handle whatever their captors threw at them. He had to desensitize them as much as possible to prevent information form getting leaked. It was a necessary evil.

Leaning back in his chair, Gabe found himself looking out of his window, contemplating on the coming weeks training. Some small part of his mind was wondering if the boy would crack easily. He doubted it, given his background. A lot of his fresh recruits weren’t used to brutality and quickly began blubbering and confessing shortly after the mock interrogations began, but this boy was a well established gang member, he had probably had more than his share of beatings.

Of course, torture wasn’t always physical…the psyche was just as easily shattered as the body. That was were a darker part of Gabe’s mind piqued with some interest for the boy. What would it take to get him to crack? What dark secrets were hiding beneath that snarky exterior… Interrogation and torture weren’t things that Gabe could say he enjoyed, but they were always morbidly interesting…the things people would say just to end the pain. Gabe had been on the receiving end enough to know how hard it was just to keep your mouth shut. Huffing, Gabe picked up his coffee and finished it off, setting the empty mug back down as he began jotting down interrogation tactics in his little notebook. He would see what the kid was made of soon enough.

 

 

 

The mess hall bustled with activity as recruits finished up their scheduled training sessions and began filing in for their dinner, the tables quickly filling up with hungry agents. For the first time since his arrival Jesse was actually sitting at one of the filled tables instead of off in a corner, minding his own business. The man he had been chatting with earlier on the track insisted Jesse sit with him and his friends, so Jesse had complied, if a bit dubiously. It was a bit awkward at first, he was pretty sure he made the other agents uncomfortable, but he could charm his way into anyone’s heart with enough effort. Soon enough the group was slipping into easy conversation, Jesse's flirting just subtle enough to make him seem interested in the others. It never hurt to have people pining for you.

While they chatted Jesse felt his holopad ping in his bag next to his leg. Reaching down, he pulled out the sleek device and thumbed through his notifications to see a VIP email in his inbox, the sender name reading “greyes”. Frowing, Jesse opened the email and read through it, his grimace only deepening with each word.

“What’s wrong, cowboy? Somebody message you and tell you to bathe more than bi weekly?” he track friend, Noah, asked, clapping him on the shoulder for the fifth time that day. Jesse shot the man a look, then slipped his holopad back into his pack.

“What’s ‘ITCP’?” Jesse asked, looking up to see the other agent’s faces drop, then those frowns replaced with pitying looks. He felt Noah’s hand on his shoulder tighten and he turned to see the man smiling somewhat sympathetically at him.

“It means ‘Interrogation, Torture, and Cruel Punishment’. It’s basically where you get beaten to hell and back for a couple weeks to prepare you for possible capture,” the man informed him, Jesse face screwing into a scowl upon hearing the news. The other agents began discussing and reminiscing about their own personal experiences in the ITCP, ranging from them spilling their guts immediately to withstanding being water boarded, but Jesse couldn’t listen. Everything was white noise to him. Maybe he had become too complacent in Blackwatch, maybe he as already going soft because the thought of torture frightened him. All he could picture was what happened back in the gorge, all he could see was evisceration, split limbs, and bulging eyes, all he could hear were haunting screams, gargled breathing, and quiet moaning. Suddenly he lost his appetite entirely, looking down at his tray but instead of seeing a meal he saw gore.

“Hey, Jesse, you okay?” he heard a voice ask from somewhere far away. Jesse quickly looked up to find Noah and a few of the other agents eyeing him and he quickly slipped his easy going smile back on, easing into the role of amorous cowboy.

“’Course I am. Was just hopin’ this little training session doesn’t get too kinky,” he joked, swallowing when the agents either laughed or rolled their eyes. Like hell he would ever let any of these people know what he was feeling. He would smile with them and laugh when they wanted him to but he would be damned if he ever let another person into his life. In this world you had to look out for you and your own, if you depended on other people then you signed your own death certificate. Gritting his teeth, he pick up his fork and forced himself to swallow bites of his food, all the while forcing a smile. He could get through this, all he had to do was fake it.

The next week passed with little incident, Jesse going about his usual training routine, eating his meals with the other agents, then crashing in his room to watch movies on his little holopad. The only thing that had really changed was that other agents seemed to be a bit more comfortable around him now, most notably Noah, who would actually initiate physical contact. Jesse didn’t mind it per se, the shoulder touches and playful elbowing didn’t upset him, he just didn’t really reciprocate. Jesse could simply look in the man’s eyes and see his whole life story, a cushy family, a few years in the military, then his bulk and skill landed him in Blackwatch. The man just…didn’t interest him. Though the same couldn’t be said for Noah, he had clearly developed an interest in Jesse, whether it was platonic or not had yet to be determined. Oh well, maybe Jesse could get a good lay out of it. The week continued on and Jesse was beginning to get nervous as the date of his ITCP training drew nearer. He didn’t sleep well the following nights.

Jesse was making his way back to his dorm room one night after a quick shower when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his gut telling him something was wrong. Jesse quickly whirled around but found himself being punched in the gut while a thick bag was forced over his head, effectively blinding him as hands ferociously grabbed at his body. The moment he was dreading had finally arrived. Rough hands forced his arms behind his back and he felt thick cuffs snap around his wrists, his skin pinching painfully as he struggled against them. Jesse swore furiously, using every word in his colorful vocabulary to insult whoever just grabbed his thigh when remembered the other agent’s words of warning, as well as his manual for interrogations he had been given by the Commander.

_“Whatever you do, don’t talk.”_

Well…Jesse was fucked then, wasn’t he?

 

 

 

Gabe sat in a steel chair in the corner of a dark, sound proof room, legs spread and fingers laced together in between them as he waited. He heard scuffling down and hall and knew that the grueling process of mock torture and interrogation was about to begin. The large metal door swung open and Gabe watched as several agents escorted a very agitated McCree into the room and forced him down onto a chair in front of Gabe. The room was positioned so that the boy’s back was facing Gabe, allowing the Commander to watch over the interrogation without the kid’s knowledge, observing from a distance. If he needed to give his agents instructions he would simply type it out on his holopad and his agents could read them, with McCree being none the wiser. He watched with mild interest as his agents tied the boy’s ankles to the legs of the chair, securing his arms behind his back. Then they pulled the bag off of the boys head, his mop of long chestnut hair tumbled out in a twisted mess. Alright, so the boy had been instructed to not give any information to the interrogators, his best bet was to keep his mouth shut entirely because in most cases when the dam broke agents simply couldn’t stop themselves form talking. Time to see what he was made of…

“Alright, desert brat, you’re going to sit there and you’re going to tell us everything we want to know,” Gabe’s first interrogator ground out, his voice steely and cold. Although Gabe couldn’t see the kid’s face, he heard the little huff of air that almost sounded like a laugh.

“You mother fuckers…can kiss…my entire ass.”

Gabe couldn’t help it, he had to snort. He dropped his head into his hand and smiled wryly at the boy’s complete lack of restraint. It was a moment later that he realized that those very words had been spoken to him a few months before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you saw any mistakes or felt something was amiss please don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> Sorry about the Gabe/Jake stuff but it's for character development! >:v Next chapter will have an...interesting interrogation.
> 
> Comment for me, it gives me the will to write. I seriously tear up when I see comments, I'm such a baby.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good LORD I am so sorry. I know you guys have been waiting so patiently. Thank you all so much for your comments, they really are what keep me writing. Especially the long ones, warms my little heart. I had so many things come up that interrupted my writing but I promise, I'm not abandoning this story. Imma keep going until the end, babes. I started writing this chapter BEFORE Retribution, Jesus.  
> Little WARNING, this chapter contains some Reaper76, but I promise, McReyes is endgame.
> 
> Anyways, for your patience and support, here is a 20,000+ word chapter.
> 
> Apologies for errors, no BETA

*OML Retribution, aye? What a time to be a McReyes shipper*

 

 

            Gabe’s agent glanced up to him for confirmation to begin and he responded with a stiff nod, eyes locked on the figure sitting in the chair before him.

            “Tell me about Deadlock,” the agent began, voice steely and eyes cold. The kid huffed and even though Gabe couldn’t see his face he could practically feel the boy’s eyes roll.

            “Care to be more specific?” the boy drawled, head lolling back so he could stare at the ceiling, emitting a disinterested huff as he tilted his head. Gabe frowned and interlaced his fingers again, making sure to be absolutely silent as not to alert the kid of his presence. The boy wasn’t making any attempt to keep quiet, but it was possible he was just playing games, it was difficult to tell.

            “Why did you join Deadlock?” the agent asked, his features illuminated harshly under the singular light in the otherwise black room. In a normal mock interrogation, soon to be agents would be asked about their pasts and their families, but since the kid actually had a pretty hefty criminal background Gabe had instructed his interrogators to focus more on his former gang life, as it would be more interesting and possibly reveal useful information. Honestly, Gabe was pretty curious himself as to the boy’s past, seeing as it was so…unusual. The boy simply sighed and flipped his hair out of his face with a flick of his head.

            “Do me a favor and fuck off,” the boy glowered flatly, leaning back in the chair again, feigning relaxation. Gabe could clearly tell it was a front, the tension in the kid’s body was plain to see; his shoulders were drawn taught and his ankles still pressed hard against their bindings. Gabe met eyes with his interrogator and gave them a small nod, allowing them to continue. Suddenly, his agent reared back and slapped the boy across his face, hard, causing the kid’s head to snap violently to the side as the harsh crack reverberated throughout the small holding cell.

            “I’m not playing games with you, Deadlock, you’re going to tell me what I want,” the interrogator ground out, staring down harshly at the boy who sat stiffly in his chair. For the first time since the interrogation began, the kid was silent, his head bowed and hair obscuring his face. The agent grabbed a fistful of the boy’s hair and pulled his head back, wrenching him upwards and forcing the kid to meet his eyes.

            “I’m going to ask you one more time, and for your sake you had better answer me. Why did you join Deadlock?” his agent demanded again, his face mere inches from McCree’s and his fingers still wrapped in the boy’s long hair.

            “Mm, you pull any harder and you’re gun’na make me take a likin’ to you,” the kid cooed, pushing himself forwards to further the tug on his hair. Gabe quirked his lips, more in amusement than in concern. The kid certainly wasn’t keeping quiet but he wasn’t revealing information either, the boy seeming content to fuck with the agent instead. The interrogator scowled and jerked the boy’s head to the side before releasing him, choosing to take a step back and eye him from the darkness, most likely thinking of their next move.

            Gabe himself sat back and reflected on how to worm under the boy’s skin, thinking of all the ways a hostile enemy might try to make him crack in a real scenario. After a couple of moments, Gabe quickly whipped out his holopad and soundlessly typed out a short set of instructions and sent it to his interrogator. The agent glanced down at his holowatch and then met Gabe’s eyes, conveying he understood.

            _Grab his thighs._

            It may have been underhanded, but the little Overwatch agent, Angela, had mentioned that the boy might have some past traumatic experiences that could be exploited, Gabe needed to see how severe the boy’s reactions were. Not to mention his sneaking suspicion that the incident in the restrooms a couple weeks ago had something to do with said past experiences. Keeping quiet, Gabe watched as his agent stepped forwards into the light again and assertively leaned down and placed his open palms on the boys mid thighs, thumbs pressed on the insides of the boy’s legs. The moment the agent’s hands met the kid’s body the energy in the room shifted, Gabe could practically taste the tension in the air. The kid did not like that.

            “Maybe…we just need to change tactics…”the agent murmured, eyes locked on the boy’s face. Gabe couldn’t see the kid’s expression, but the way his shoulders were drawn and his head bowed told him everything he needed to know. The kid was infuriated. Gabe frowned and jotted something down in his notes, fingers tapping silently against his holo-screen. The kid was too transparent when he was angry, they probably needed to work on that. The agent slid his palms half an inch higher, eyes still locked on the kid’s face.

            “So, you want to tell me why you joined?” the agent questioned softly, his hand sliding a fraction higher up the boy’s legs.

            “Get your fuckin’ hands off of me,” the boy hissed, the haughty air from his voice long gone, replaced instead with a cold malice that was almost tangible in the air. Grimacing, Gabe jotted down a couple more notes, confirming his suspicions. He should probably schedule an acting class with one of his more experienced agents in the next few weeks. As he silently typed into his holopad and the agent kept pressing the boy a minute cracking sound grabbed Gabe’s attention, the tiny grating noise all too familiar to him. It was the sound of bones snapping.

            He glanced up quizzically and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw the boy had dislocated one of his thumbs, the appendage dislodged and jutting into his palm unnaturally. Gabe watched, fascinated, as the boy worked on his other hand, clenching it into a fist , tan knuckles turning white, until another infinitesimal cracking noise sounded out, now both his thumbs jutting bizarrely into his palms. For a moment, Gabe was confused as to why the kid would dislocate his own fingers, was he trying to distract himself from the interrogation with physical pain? Then he watched, almost entranced, as the boy slowly began sliding his hands upwards, through the cuffs, the skin on his palms being pinched and pulled, turning pink beneath the metal. It was still tight, and it was clear that the kid was still struggling, but with his thumbs dislocated it actually seemed plausible for him to eventually jimmy out of his bindings. Gabe couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow, somewhat impressed. He continued to sit and watch as the kid slowly, centimeter by centimeter, slid his hands further and further up and out of the cuffs, all while the agent continued drilling him and touching him, none the wiser that his captive was slipping away. When the kid was about to slide two of his knuckles out, Gabe quickly typed something into his hollopad and sent it to his agent.

            _Leave. I will take over for now._

            The agent glanced at his holowatch, then righted himself, removing his hands from the boy’s legs.

            “We’ll be seeing each other again,” the agent informed McCree coldly, then he turned on his heels and left without another word, the steely door closing behind him, locks audibly sliding into place. The moment the door closed the kid quickly set to work again, visibly straining against the cuffs in an aggressive attempt to pry his hands from their hold. Just as it looked like he might slip his right hand through, Gabe stood and silently closed the space between them, placing his large palm on the boy’s trim shoulder, causing the kid to jolt then stiffen immediately.

            “Easy there, pachuco,” Gabe murmured softly, his gaze meeting the boy’s wide eyed stare. “You want me to take those off for you?” he continued, huffing a little laugh when the kid gave a stiff nod after a beat of silence. As he fished the key to the handcuffs out of his back pocket Gabe looked up to the corner of the room and eyed the camera he knew was hiding in the dark, signaling to his agents that he wanted them to watch what he was about to do. Contrary to how most media portrayed interrogations the key was not intimidation, per say, but persuasiveness. To be perfectly frank, torture did not elicit useful information the vast majority of the time, most victims either succumbing immediately and telling lies to stop the pain or never giving in at all. If you really wanted to get under a target's skin you had to make them think that they would gain something…you had to give them something they wanted in return.

            The cuffs fell off of the boy’s wrists and hit the floor with a clang, the kid suspiciously bringing his hands in front of him to cradle them against his chest. Gabe walked around until he was facing the kid and pulled up a chair, dragging the metal seat towards him then sitting down with a casual huff as he crossed his ankles in front of him. Time to see what the kid was made of.

            “I take it you’ve been cuffed before?” Gabe commented with a small smirk, eyes drifting to the boy’s hands, the skin still tinged pink from the strain. The kid eyed him quietly, gaze moving from Gabe’s eyes, to his hands, then back to his face, searching for something he seemed unable to find. Eventually he looked away, choosing to cast his eyes down to his disjointed thumbs. Alright, he had some restraint, he still wasn’t talking. Gabe let his eyes rest on the boy’s hands too, eyeing the way the digits bent into the kid’s palms unnaturally.

            “Do you need help with that or…?” Gabe trailed off, bringing his gaze back up to meet the kid’s, almost surprised to find the boy staring at him with an almost frightening intensity. When their eyes met the kid quickly looked away, something between a scowl and a pout across his face as he stared at the dimly lit wall. After a couple beats of silence the kid trailed his gaze back up to meet Gabe’s, the harsh florescent light bulb overhead illuminating his honey hued eyes iridescently.

            “I can do it myself but it’s…hard. Usually had help,” the kid mumbled, dipping his head a bit so his long hair framed his face, looking almost embarrassed by the confession. Many years of training kept Gabe from smirking but he still felt that little glow of triumph in his chest, even at that very small admittance. This was his way in, Gabe had given the kid something he wanted, the cuffs off, then gotten him to admit something about himself. The information, while interesting, wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that Gabe had gotten the kid to reveal something about himself; this was the way a proper interrogation was to be conducted.

Intimidate the subject, offer them something they need, then slowly whittle away at their defenses. Gabe was really hoping his agents were taking notes.

            “I could help you…” Gabe offered, keeping his voice soft and his tone casual, acting indifferent to the situation when he was anything but. The kid looked up at him and swallowed, his hands lowering to his lap as he mulled over the offer. Gabe saw the conflict flitting across the kid’s face and decided to seize the opportunity to further the kid’s trust in him.

            “Tell you what, while I’m working your thumbs back into place you tell me how the hell you ended up in that gorge,” Gabe offered, a casual, if a bit snarky, smile across his lips.

“You sure you’re qualified to do that?” the kid quipped dryly, his western drawl elongating the vowels, drawing them out slowly between his lips. Laughing, Gabe sat up a little straighter and crossed his arms over his chest, meeting the boy’s skeptical gaze.

“Believe me, I’ve set my fair share of bones, boy,” he replied, light tone only thinly veiling the hidden malice, hinting at Gabe’s decades of knowledge on how the human body worked, and his even more extensive knowledge of how to break it. Gabe watched as the kid mulled it over then, ever so slowly, extended his right hand towards Gabe, seeming to relent. Reaching out, Gabe placed his gloved thumb in the center of the boy’s palm and began rubbing the base of the kid’s disjointed digit, his fingers splayed across the kid’s knuckles, holding his hand in place. As Gabe slowly began working on the kid’s dislocated thumb, rubbing his own in small circles and gently massaging the bones back into place, he glanced up to see the kid staring at him with that same intensity as before. The boy’s eyes, dark brown and piercing with flecks of gold, brought up a strange memory from his youth, when Gabe had still been living in California.

Swallowing thickly, Gabe pushed that memory aside and focused his attention back on the kid’s hand, gloved thumb still rubbing firm but gentle circles as the appendage slowly began righting itself.

“So, Deadlock,” Gabe urged, casually raising his eyebrow as he addressed the boy. The boy scowled and set his lips in a thin line, Gabe now noticing the sparse bits of facial hair surrounding the kid’s mouth. When the silence continued Gabe applied a quick but immense bit of pressure to the kid’s disjointed thumb, earning a low hiss and a searing scowl.

            “We had a deal…” Gabe explained casually, still working on the boy’s thumb, gaze languidly rising to meet the kid’s glare. The silence continued to stretch on and just as Gabe thought he was going to have to actually break the boy’s fingers the kid took a shaky breath.

            “It weren’t…it weren’t my choice…to join,” he mumbled after a moment, a mix of regret and anger interlaced in his voice. Gabe couldn’t help but give a little amused huff at the kid’s grammar but mulled over the information all the same.

            “They kidnap you?” Gabe questioned indifferently, keeping his eyes on his work but still keeping track of the kid’s face from his peripheral.

            “Somethin’ like that,” the kid replied dryly, clearly not wanting to elaborate further. A few beats of silence stretched between the two then, only the sound of Gabe’s gloved finger rubbing slow circles into the kid’s hand was audible.

            “Ana and I were talking a few days ago…she likes you a lot, you know, she asked about you quite a bit,” Gabe mentioned off handedly, pressing the kid’s thumb back into place with a muffled crack, then he ran his thumb over the swollen joint as the kid’s eyes widened, even while he grimaced through his thumb being pushed back into its socket.

            “She…she did?” the kid queried, his whole face perking up, a light blush spreading beneath his heavy smattering of freckles.

            “Mhm,” Gabe replied simply, finally releasing the kid’s hand, the appendage falling slowly into the kid’s lap. The boy eyed his hand slowly, the blush still blooming brightly across his face as his gaze traveled from his newly fixed thumb to his other hand. Gabe held out his palm, giving it an impatient shake when the kid just eyed it blankly before getting the message, quickly pushing his left hand towards Gabe, allowing him to begin fixing that thumb too.

            “She told me your mother taught you how to shoot and you just took to it naturally, that true?” Gabe asked, drawing the kid’s attention back to him. His blush began fading then as a somber look overtook the kid’s face, his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

            “M,hm,” the kid replied after a moment, causing Gabe to frown. He pressed down on the kid’s thumb and earned a little gasp.

            “What was that? Sorry, couldn’t hear you,” Gabe asked pointedly, watching as the kid’s thick eyebrows drew together into a deep frown.

            “Yessir,” the kid growled after a moment, his scowl deepening. Gabe smiled haughtily and resumed rubbing small circles into the kid’s palm, smoothing his thumb over the swollen joint in slow, languid movements.

            “Alright, so your mom taught you how to shoot and you caught Deadlock’s eye. They took you and made you a member, that sounding right?” Gabe questioned, pressing his elbow onto his knee and placing his chin in his palm, his posture completely relaxed and borderline bored.

            “More or less,” the kid mumbled sourly, seemingly unimpressed with Gabe’s summation. Giving a little nod, Gabe continued his work and kept his eyes on the boy’s palm.

            “So, who’d you work for?” Gabe asked eventually, taking a risk of jumping to a big question and hoping it would pay off. The kid scowled and a look of utter distaste overtook his features.

            “Don’t know his full name,” the kid muttered, his eyes glazing over in a myriad of emotions, none of them pleasant.

            “So what’d you call him?” Gabe pressed, keeping his voice as apathetic as possible.

            “Lot of the time we just called him The Boss, but his official gang name was Copperhead, on account of his last name bein’ Copperfield,” the kid replied, his eyes downcast and his lips tugged deeper into a grimace. Gabe simply gave a minute nod, soaking in the information. Copperhead…a fitting name for a snake of a man. Those names were familiar but Overwatch had never been able to find out exactly whom they belonged to. It was certainly a useful bit of knowledge. As Gabe pondered over this new information, a question popped into his head and, before he could really think about it, he found himself asking,

            “So what did they call you?”

            The kid seemed caught off guard by that and he eyed Gabe with an unreadable expression before swallowing and glancing away, choosing to stare at his hand instead.

            “Most of ‘em just called me Jesse but my official name was Deadeye.”

            Gabe found himself breathing out a soft laugh, eyes concentrating on his work as he pushed the kid’s thumb back into its socket, but his mind was back on the searing rooftop in the Gorge. The kid was pinned beneath his legs, hands above his head and Gabe could feel the pounding of the boy’s heartbeat, veins thrumming with fear. But his eyes, even as they were glistening with tears and stinging with sweat, the kid’s eyes had been deadly, that seething glare a promise of death if given the chance.

            “Appropriate name,” Gabe found himself murmuring as he slowly relinquished the kid’s hand, both of his thumbs now being righted and fixed into their sockets. Then, chair screeching against the floor in protest, Gabe abruptly stood and began making his was towards the door.

            “Hey, ain’t you gunna’ untie my ankles?” the kid called out, looking a bit distressed to be left cuffed to the chair. Turning, Gabe addressed him coolly, his face placid.

            “No, you aren’t finished. You failed your interrogation so you’ll be here a while,” Gabe replied, crossing his arms over his chest, watching as the kid’s concerned face fell and slowly morphed into realization, then fury.

            “You fuckin’ tricked me,” the kid hissed, his fingers curling into fists as he addressed Gabe, anger hardening his face. Smirking, Gabe placed his hands on his waist, cocking his hips to the side.

            “I never made you talk, boy, you chose to give me information all on your own. Your instructions were very simple, you were to keep quiet and not reveal anything. You chose not to do that and you failed,” Gabe explained simply, raising an eyebrow at the kid’s infuriated face, clearly unimpressed. After a beat of silence the kid huffed and hung his head, accepting his defeat.

            “So what happens now…?” the kid asked, his voice trailing off in uncertainty and he glanced back up at Gabe, meeting his eyes.

            “Well, you’ll be interrogated again later this week, just so you can experience what it might be like in the field. Now though…now your Torture Sensitivity training begins,” Gabe replied gravely, his smirk fading into a more somber expression. The kid’s face fell at that and Gabe watched as the boy’s eyes hardened, accepting what was about to come.

“Stay strong, kid,” Gabe found himself saying, the words leaving his mouth before he really thought about them. The kid looked up dully and met his gaze, those big brown eyes wide as they stared back at Gabe. Their gazes locked for a few tense moments before Gabe cleared his throat, breaking the tension. With that, he turned and left the room.

 

 

            Jesse had been expecting to endure a lot of pain during the torture sessions, his fellow agents had been sure to warn him about the various ways he’d be hurt well before it began. It had started the way Jesse had figured it would, with a good old fashioned beating. He had been blindfolded and gagged, tied down and immobile, all while harsh kicks met his ribs and rough knuckles cracked against his jaw. All this, repeatedly, until he was sure he was more his skin had to look like a late night sunset, bright red and surrounded by murky purple. Beatings had been no rare occurrence back in Deadlock and luckily Jesse had long since developed a method for dealing with physical pain.

            He was never sure quite how he did it, but it always seemed to happen when Jesse felt like he was about to be in immense agony. His mind just went…blank. It was almost like he wasn’t there anymore, wasn’t in his body. Jesse was somewhere else. While it helped avoid the initial sting of discomfort the experience always left him disoriented and confused, and, honestly, Jesse wished he could figure out how to stop it. However, it was out of his control, just as the torture was out of his control. All Jesse could do was grit his teeth and endure.

            When bright hot lights blinked back into Jesse’s sight he realized that he had blacked out and now had no idea where he was. Spots danced across his vision as he blearily looked around the room, only to find that he couldn’t see anyways because of the dim lighting. After a few moments pain began to ebb throughout his body and Jesse couldn’t help but let out a low groan, trailing off into a soft whine, the sound reverberating throughout his chest as his body sagged further into the chair he was locked to. He must have blacked out again because he found himself snapping awake as a searing pain erupted from one of his finger tips, his wide eyes frantically looking down in time to see a woman pulling his fingernail out with a pair of pliers, blood pooling in the indention where his nail once was. Gasping out a garbled breath, Jesse could only sit in horror and watch as the woman very methodically and ever so slowly pulled each and every one of his nails from his fingertips, being sure to gently place each one in a small dish before moving to the next.

            He didn’t remember much after she had pulled seven of his nails, it was all a bloody blur punctuated by harsh breaths and agonized groans. As his fingertips throbbed and buzzed with pain Jesse couldn’t help but wish his Commander was here to massage his hands again, smoothing the ache away with his skilled touch. That experience had been much more pleasant than this nightmare. Then again, he was the reason Jesse was going through all this pain in the first place. On second thought, fuck the Commander, fixed thumbs or not. Jesse found himself laughing in delirium as the woman suddenly snapped his pointer finger backwards, effectively breaking the appendage with a sickening crack. His bastard of a Commander had just done all that work to fix his thumbs and now here this bitch was, breaking them all over again. Jesse was able to force himself to stay conscious as each and every one of his fingers were forced back and broken, some in multiple places, but when she got to his wrists Jesse simply couldn’t fight it anymore and he succumbed to the blackness that was closing in on his vision.

            Water filled his mouth and Jesse awoke with a strangled gasp, finding himself upside down as liquid flooded past his face. It felt like he was drowning. Later, he would realize that he was being water boarded but in the moment his mind was a blind panic, lungs screaming for air as his nostrils burned, body writhing in agony as his chest ached desperately for relief. Then, just as Jesse was sure he would never take another breath, the flow of water stopped and he was harshly pulled upright again and he found himself gagging and vomiting up water, throat and nose searing as he choked. When his ragged breaths were no longer punctuated with a torrent of liquid Jesse was forced backwards and the process repeated, Jesse’s mouth and nose eventually filling with water, forcing him to drown and gag as his body bucked and thrashed against his bindings. He lost track of how many times this recurred. Eventually he was unlatched from the slab of metal he was strapped to and thrown onto the floor of a cell, his clothes soaked and his throat shredded from constant coughing and gasping.

            And so it went on, Jesse would black out, find that his nails had been forcibly regrown only to have them ripped out again, he’d recover from his beatings only to have his ribs re-broken and his jaw reset, day after day for what he guessed was at least a week. The agents shook it up a few times and gave him electroshock therapy at seemingly random times, inserting needles into his skin before channeling electricity directly into his body, causing his muscles to tighten and convulse excruciatingly. That had certainly been…interesting. One day had been nothing but interrogation tactics and Jesse had made damn sure to keep his mouth shut, even when they sent in a beautiful young woman that reminded him so very much of Captain Amari wielding a nasty looking buzz saw. It was almost routine now, the torture, and to be perfectly honest Jesse almost felt comfortable with the situation at this point. His life prior to Blackwatch had hardened him against pain. Then, it was over as soon as it had started. One morning Jesse awoke, not in a cell or strapped to a table, but in the hospital wing to find a small folder beside his bed, the contents saying that yes, he had passed his ITCP training. Flipping through he folder suspiciously, Jesse eventually came to the conclusion that it wasn’t some sort of trick and he had in fact made it through all the torture without cracking. Letting out a little sigh, Jesse let himself collapse back into his bed, a somewhat smug smile on his face as he sank down against the pillows. He knew those bastards couldn’t break him.

            His self congratulatory thoughts were interrupted when the separating screen to his cot was abruptly pulled aside to reveal the imposing form of his Commander, the sudden noise causing Jesse to jump, earning a little huff of amusement from the other man.

            “Christ, just ‘cuz I’m already in the hospital don’t mean you can just up and give me a heart attack,” Jesse groused, feeling his cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment as the older man looked down at him, his eyes slightly crinkled in an amused smirk.

            “Glad to see you’re not drugged out of your mind this time,” Commander Reyes grunted, his smirk widening at the look of confusion on Jesse’s face.

            “Don’t tell me they doped me up and had me babblin’,” Jesse groaned, carding a hand through his hair worriedly. The Commander barked out a laugh and put his hands on his hips, eyes alight with amusement.

            “I came to check up on you and found you on painkillers, you wouldn’t stop talking nonsense,” the older man laughed, clearly enjoying Jesse’s embarrassment as he stewed away on his little hospital cot.

            “Aw, what the hell did I say?” Jesse asked anxiously, feeling embarrassment creep up his spine even stronger than before, forgetting for a moment that he shouldn’t be speaking so casually in front of his commanding officer. The embarrassing feeling only intensified when the Commander gave another amused huff, his grin widening a bit as he regarded Jesse.

            “You kept asking why Ana hadn’t come to visit you, you would not shut the hell up about wanting peanut butter cups, you kept mentioning some man named Evans who apparently owes you money, and, ah, you kept saying that I had ‘real pretty eyes’,” the commander snorted, crossing his arms over his broad chest as Jesse ducked his head and groaned into his palms. Why the hell had those damn doctors put him on such strong pain killers, it wasn’t like he needed them. Jesse couldn’t even remember being awake in the hospital before this, he must have been really fucked up. The thing about Ana he didn’t much mind, he made his crush on the beautiful Captain pretty well known, as well as his love of chocolate and peanut butter. And yeah, Evans, that bastard, he still owed Jesse for bets placed back when he was in Deadlock. The last thing though….Jesus, he could have gone his whole life without letting his Commander know how nice Jesse thought his eyes looked. In the interrogation room he couldn’t help but notice them, the harsh light had caused the man’s pupils to become pin pricks, allowing Jesse to realize how colorful and bright the Commander’s irises were. Jesse had decided that the color was hazel, the outer rim of the iris being a light brown surrounding a bright green, the two colors mixing together in the middle to form an almost golden hue. They really were pretty, not that Jesse ever wanted to tell the Commander that.

            “If y’all didn’t want me talkin’ nonsense then you shouldn’t have doped me up,” Jesse groused, doing his best to keep from pouting and hoping that his Commander didn’t take his drug induced babbling too seriously. The Commander huffed out another laugh and reached into his back pocket, tugging out a small orange package.

            “Think fast, cowboy,” and with that the Commander tossed the small parcel at Jesse who quickly caught it before it hit his torso. Glancing down, Jesse felt his chest get a little lighter when he realized it was a package of candy, specifically, chocolate peanut butter cups. Jesse felt his eyes widen a bit and he looked up at the Commander, holding the candy gently in his palms.

            “Well I’ll be, Commander, bringin’ me chocolates in bed? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re sweet on me,” Jesse gushed sarcastically, smiling widely up at the older man as he clutched the candy close to his chest dramatically. In return the Commander scowled and gave Jesse an exasperated look, causing Jesse to smile sheepishly.

            “Don’t make me take that back, ingrate,” the Commander growled, the man’s usually gruff venire returning. Jesse couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at that. He had been called many names in his short life time but he couldn’t recall ever being called an ingrate. For a moment Jesse thought about shooting back some sassy retort but what little common sense he had convinced him otherwise, opting instead to tear open the package and pop one of the chocolate candies into his mouth. Just as he was about to take a bite of the first peanut butter cup he pulled the sweet away from his lips and grinned happily up at the Commander, who was still standing beside his hospital cot, observing.

            “Thank you, sir,” Jesse chuckled earnestly, finally popping the candy into his mouth, eyes closing in bliss as smooth chocolate slowly melded away into creamy peanut butter on his tongue. When his eyes reopened Jesse was surprised to see his Commander staring at him with an almost unnerving concentration. When their eyes met the strange penetrating look left the Commander’s face, instead being replaced with his usual placid frown.

            “When the doctors dismiss you, head back to your room, your updating training schedule will be on your holopad,” the Commander instructed gruffly before he turned and strode away without another word, his heavy boot steps slowly fading away until Jesse was left with silence as he sat alone in the hospital ward. Sighing, Jesse flopped back down onto his pillow and tugged another peanut butter cup from its package, inspecting the sweet as he held it above him between two fingers. For as harsh as he acted, Jesse couldn’t help but think that his Commander could be pretty kind.

 

 

            Gabe glanced around the gymnasium, eyes scanning the recruits as they all began their warm up stretches, separating off into small groups to chat as they completed varying yoga poses. A loud laugh caught his attention and Gabe found himself turning his gaze to his freshest recruit, McCree. The kid was stretching his arms over his head and laughing about something, smugly, if his snarky grin was any indication. There was a man next to him, Noah, if Gabe recalled correctly, and his face was completely red, a deep blush running all the way down the man’s neck to disappear beneath his work out shirt. A young woman and another man chimed in on the laughter, the little group switching from stretch to stretch as they continued chatting about this and that. It seemed like McCree was starting to make some acquaintances, which would hopefully be a good development.

Gabe couldn’t help but think back to Jack’s condition, that the kid be able to perfectly follow order’s and perform in a year’s time…it was already going on three months and Gabe still didn’t trust the kid as far as he could throw him. The kid hadn’t caused trouble, necessarily, but Gabe new he had an issue with authority and that hadn’t really been tested yet. Rubbing his chin through his fingerless training gloves, Gabe considered taking the kid on a couple low stakes mission, just to test his capacity to listen to orders. It was something to consider, at least.

After a few minutes Gabe clapped his hand’s together, gloved palms coming together loudly in a sound that rang throughout the gym. A hush fell over the expansive room immediately, all the agents knowing to fall silent when the Commander called for their attention. Gabe began dolling out instructions for hand to hand combat, calling up a veteran recruit to do some practice holds with. The two demonstrated various holds and how to break them, just breezing over the basics so the recruits had a vague idea as to what they would be dealing with. While lectures were all well and good, Gabe was a firm believer in hands on learning.

He delved the recruits into pairs and let them work through some move sets, slowly maneuvering between the couples to observe and occasionally correct them as they practiced. As he strode past the agents he heard a laugh and languidly turned his gaze to find McCree pinned to the floor beneath Noah, the cowboy’s face a bemused smirk.

“Damn boy, didn’t think you had it in you,” McCree goaded with a flirtatious smile, Noah’s cheeks turning a bright pink as he held one of McCree’s legs to the floor, Noah’s other hand tightening on McCree’s shoulder as he held him down on his back. Rolling his eyes, Gabe made his way over towards the two, eyes briefly catching the pinned ex convict before they flitted away.

“Don’t let this moron throw you off, keep working,” Gabe huffed to Noah, catching McCree’s frown in his peripheral vision as he walked away. The rest of the session went fairly well, Gabe continuing to monitor everyone’s progress as they practiced various holds. After a couple hours of work Gabe clapped his hands and dismissed the agents to the showers, beginning to make his way back to his office when he couldn’t help but pick up on a conversation as a group of agents passed by.

“Damn, McCree, you got thrown on your back so much I’m starting to think you like it that way,” Gabe heard a male voice chide, their voice snarky and tone snide. What they said was true to a degree, McCree had seemed to have difficulties at first for grappling out of a hold but Gabe has just chalked that up to the kid’s lack of military experience, nothing time and training couldn’t fix. However, Gabe had a feeling that agent, Jacob, had said something they shouldn’t have, and as he turned Gabe laid eyes on McCree’s face and found himself correct. McCree had that same cold blooded stare he had seen several times before, his lips curling into a snarl as the ex convict shouldered his way to the front of the group to press his chest against the agent who had spoken against him.

“You wan’na run that by me again?” McCree growled lowly, his deep voice icy cold as he positioned his face mere inches from the other man’s. It seemed like a fight was inevitable. Thinking quickly, Gabe cleared his throat and grabbed the little group’s attention.

“Yeah Jacob, pretty bold words about being on your back from a twenty four year old virgin,” Gabe quipped snidely, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirked over at the agent. After a beat of silence, laughter broke out amongst the agents and Jacob ducked his head as his entire face turned scarlet.

“What the hell, Commander, that was uncalled for…” the embarrassed man muttered miserably, the tension quickly dissipating as McCree stepped back and shot a questioning look in Gabe’s direction as the rest of the group chuckled.

“Shouldn’t have gotten drunk at that party, your tongue got loose,” Gabe jeered, turning around and beginning to make his way back to his office, thinking that maybe he could take a nice shower while he had some free time. He heard the agent groan about never going to another Holiday party and Gabe couldn’t help but chuckle.

 

 

 

Jesse sat on the foot of his bed, leg bouncing anxiously as he thought back to his training session. What that other man had said to him was still bothering him, the words buzzing around his head like angry hornets, refusing to let him relax for even a moment. Frustration welled up in Jesse’s chest and he heaved a sigh, bouncing his foot even quicker against the floor. It was so incredibly maddening that the other agents were so far ahead of him skill wise, at least physically speaking. Jesse had no doubts that he could out shoot every other agent in the building, but a gun couldn’t help him in this situation. Biting his lip, Jesse pondered what he could do to improve, it wasn’t like he could just practice on his own, he needed someone with him. What he needed was extra training.

Worrying at his lip even more, Jesse picked up his holopad from the nightstand and slid his finger across the screen, activating the device.

“Athena, where is Commander Reyes’ office?” Jesse questioned quietly, watching as the screen pulled up a map of the base and directed Jesse as to where the office is.

“Is the Commander in his office?” he asked, nervousness beginning to form in his belly for some bizarre reason.

“Yes, Commander Reyes is currently in his office,” Athena chimed back, her melodic voice sounding slightly synthetic. Biting his lip harder still, Jesse weighed his options. If he walked his ass down to the Commander’s office would the Commander be angry or would he be impressed? Absentmindedly, Jesse began fiddling with one of his earrings, rubbing the gold plating between his fingertips as he stewed on his bed. Was the risk of irritating the man worth the small chance that he might help Jesse in some way? Maybe he could just ask the Commander to recommend a training partner for him.

“Athena, what is Commander Reyes doing?” Jesse asked slowly, hoping that the computer could tell him if the man was busy or not, tugging on his earring instinctively.

“You are not authorized to know this,” she responded, and Jesse could swear the computer sounded smug. Sighing, Jesse stood and ran a hand through his hair and straightened out his shirt, smoothing a wrinkle that had formed in his work out gear. Guess there was nothing to do but ask the man himself.

If someone had told Jesse half a year ago that he would be nervously standing outside some military commander’s door, too scared to knock because he didn’t want to inconvenience the man inside, he would have laughed outright. Since when did Jesse ever care that he was a bother to someone? It was ridiculous. Yet here he was, going on two minutes of simply standing outside of the Commander’s door, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides as he shifted from foot to foot. It was so easy, knock, ask the Commander for a training partner, leave. So why was he still here, pussyfooting around? A small part of Jesse knew the answer, even though he refused to acknowledge it. The fact of the matter was…Jesse respected the Commander. If he was being honest, Jesse could count on three fingers the people he held respect for, counting every person he had ever encountered in his miserable life, and it was looking like he was about to add a fourth.

 _He ain’t gunna’ throw you out for botherin’ him, just do it,_ Jesse reasoned with himself, gulping down a large sigh as he raised his fist to the door. Finally, he rapped his knuckles against the metal, pulse skyrocketing as he waited for a response. After a terribly tense moment the door slid open with a hiss, revealing a dimly lit entry way, dark hardwood floors illuminated by the pale light of the setting sun through a half opened window.

“Come in,” a gruff voice commanded, compelling Jesse’s body forwards, through the entry way and into the office. Walking cautiously, Jesse quietly rounded the corner to see the Commander sitting at a large wooden desk, typing quickly into a computer that was surrounded by paperwork. Keeping his eyes locked on the Commander’s face, illuminated pale blue by the screen, Jesse continued forwards, refusing to let himself look around the room. His heart was thundering.

After a few more rapid keyboard clicks, the Commander cut his eyes over to Jesse, narrowing slightly as he took him in, which in no way helped Jesse’s nervousness. Pushing himself away from his computer, the Commander swiveled over to the center of his desk, arms crossing across his broad chest.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, pendejo?” he asked sarcastically, one eyebrow raising until it was almost covered by his low sitting beanie. Jesse swallowed and willed himself to stop acting like a nervous fawn, even as the Commander’s piercing gaze continued to unnerve him.

“I was uh…was hopin’ I could be scheduled for extra combat training,” Jesse managed to get out, finishing with a half assed grin that he was sure didn’t look genuine. The Commander narrowed his eyes and sat back in his chair, seeming perplexed.

“You’re doing fine, you can’t expect to excel on the first try,” Reyes replied, his eyebrow still slightly quirked. Jesse scowled, remembering his difficulties with being pinned earlier that day, the memory crashing over him with a new wave of determination.

“I don’t want to be ‘fine’, I want to be good. Real good,” Jesse retorted, fists clenching at his sides as the thought of throwing the other agents to the ground fueled him, eyes bright with resolve. The Commander hummed, then cocked his head to the side, eyeing Jesse curiously.

“Alright, so what’s your suggestion as to how to get ‘real good’?” he asked, a sly edge to his question.

“Was hopin’ you could give me a training partner, someone who is real experienced and could teach me,” Jesse replied, praying he wasn’t asking too much of the man. The Commander seemed to ponder this, nodding his need minutely while he glanced out of the window, the fading sunlight gleaming pink across his dark skin.

“Alright,” he conceded after a long pause, “I can probably find someone willing to give you extra lessons. When were you hoping to do this?”

“Hell, I’d be fine with starting right now, but whatever time the trainer could give to me would suit me alright,” Jesse replied, fighting to keep the grin off of his lips. The Commander swiveled back over to face his computer and quickly typed something into the keyboard, propping his head up on a gloved palm as a schedule popped up on the screen.

“How about you head to the gym at nine tonight, there are a few private work out rooms, head to room E,” the Commander instructed, his hazel eyes slanting over to meet Jesse’s.

“Sounds perfect sir, thank you,” Jesse grinned, barely able to contain his excitement at the prospect of learning how to fight properly. The Commander simply offered a huff and dismissed Jesse, who eagerly bounded down the hall to impatiently wait in his room for nine to roll around.

After a few hours of anxiously bouncing around his room, nine o’clock finally arrived and Jesse began making his way towards the gym, workout bag in hand. He hadn’t bothered to shower after his training session earlier since he planned on working out again later that night, so he was sure he smelled slightly of sweat. Not that it bothered him in the least, in the gorge it was normal to sometimes go literal weeks without bathing, with the scarcity of water what it was, so it was no stretch to say Jesse was used to the smell of filth. In preparation Jesse had simply slathered on another layer of deodorant and pulled his hair into a tiny ponytail at the base of his skull. He just hoped his training partner didn’t mind too much.

He found room E and entered, glancing around the large space, taking it in as he closed the door behind him. The wall adjacent to the door was lined with floor length mirrors, Jesse’s reflection staring back at him perplexingly as he glanced around the room. There was a single bench by the door and several floor mats stacked over in a corner, besides that, the hardwood floor was bare. A simple yet practical training space. Jesse sat his bag down, tugging out a small towel and his thermos of water and setting them on the bench, deciding to do some warm up stretches before his trainer arrived. Having come a bit early, Jesse had some time to kill so he grabbed his ankle from behind and tugged it upwards, frowning when he couldn’t get it any higher than his mid back. Flexibility was something else he needed to work on it seemed. After a few minutes of leg stretches he moved to his arms, pulling an elbow behind his head, feeling the tug of muscles under his shoulder blades. As Jesse switched arms he heard the door swing open then close, indicating that his trainer had entered the room. Glancing up from his stretches to face the mirror so he could catch a quick glimpse at his trainer in the reflection, Jesse found his hand slipping from his elbow, causing him to stumble in place as his eyes widened when he recognized the person. Behind him, dressed in a black hoodie and dark red athletic shorts, was Commander Reyes. Jesse gulped and slowly turned around to face the older man, who seemed wholly unperturbed by the situation, casually sitting his own work out bag down before making his way towards Jesse.

“Um, you didn’t have to come yourself, I could have waited until you found another agent,” Jesse mumbled nervously, taken aback by the fact that the Commander had come to train him, personally. Commander Reyes shrugged and continued forwards until he was just a few inches from Jesse, taking up his entire field of vision.

“I had some free time, and who’s going to train you better than me?” the Commander replied matter o factly. Jesse nodded and instinctively backed up, putting a couple more inches of space between him and the other man, allowing himself some room to breathe. Although Jesse wouldn’t ever admit it, Commander Reyes was pretty fucking intimidating.

“So what would you say you’re having the most trouble with?” the Commander asked, addressing Jesse as he rested his hands on his hips. Frowning, Jesse thought back to the training session, remembering all the times he had gotten tackled to the ground.

“I had trouble with not bein’ able to get out of a hold, then getting’ pinned,” he answered earnestly, even if it hurt his pride a bit to admit it. The Commander nodded and turned, walking towards the corner to take a floor mat and toss it over to the ground. The Commander then stood atop the mat and gestured with his hand for Jesse to join him. Quickly obeying, Jesse stood across from the Commander and waited for an order. Suddenly, the Commander’s arm was around his neck, Jesse scrabbling to pull backwards, legs attempting to get a strong hold even as the Commander bent Jesse backwards, forcing his back onto the mat. The Commander hummed, as if he was mulling over something then stood up, getting off of Jesse. Heaving a sigh, Jesse blew a piece of hair out of his face and remained on the mat, feeling a bit like a joke. His eyes widened a bit when the Commander extended his hand towards Jesse, offering him some assistance. Putting his hand in the Commander’s, he found himself being hauled to his feet, hair swinging out of his face as he was pulled upwards.

“Your issue is that instead of anticipating and countering an attack, your instinct is to pull away and run,” the Commander informed him, causing Jesse to frown and look down at his feet, feeling a hot burst of shame creep up his neck. The Commander must have sensed his disheartenment, because he quickly amended,

“Running isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it is probably your reaction because you sense you’re outmatched. You’ve got good instincts, but you’ll have to fight against them.” Jesse huffed through his nose and put his hands on his hips.

“Ya’ ain’t got to sugar coat it, you can just say I don’t know what I’m doin’,” Jesse retorted flatly, earning an eye roll from the Commander.

“Alright, come here, we’ll start with countering,” the Commander said, waving for Jesse to step closer.

“Now, if I were to come at you again, and you couldn’t move to the sides, where would you try to grab me to try to stop me?” the older man asked, gazing at Jesse expectantly. Eyes roaming up and down the Commander’s form, Jesse tried to figure out where the man would be weakest. Fairly broad shoulders, wide chest, slim waist, huge legs…

“Um…your…arms?” Jesse some what guessed. The Commander quirked his lips and gave a little half nod.

“Good start, it’s usually a good idea to grab your opponents arm when they’re coming at you. Do you know what to do once you’ve gripped their arm?”

“No sir.”

“Either parry it away or pull them towards you,” the Commander replied with a smirk.

“Seems counter intuitive,” Jesse mumbled questioningly, turning slightly pink when the Commander chuckled.

“Here, throw a punch at me, I’ll demonstrate,” the older man ordered, widening his stance on the mat. Jesse’s eyes roamed over the Commander’s form, taking in how he held his body, feet wide apart, knees bent, chest pressed forwards while his stomach was tucked in. Swallowing thickly, Jesse took a step back to steady himself then leapt forward, swinging a right straight towards the Commander’s face. Before Jesse could even blink, the Commander had a firm grip on his wrist and was yanking him towards him while the man’s other hand met Jesse’s shoulder, shoving him backwards. The sudden stop of momentum caused Jesse’s body to still, allowing the Commander to shove him backwards, Jesse’s feet flying upwards while his back crashed down onto the mat. The Commander’s knee pressed into the mat beside Jesse’s stomach while his left palm continued to press into Jesse’s right shoulder.

“Do you know what just happened?” the Commander asked quietly, his voice as unaffected as ever.

“You used my own momentum against me,” Jesse muttered, realization dawning in his eyes. The Commander nodded then stood, offering Jesse his hand again, which the young cowboy gladly accepted.

“That’s how you can take on opponents of any size. You don’t have to be stronger and you don’t have to be bigger, just smarter,” the Commander explained, Jesse nodding with each word, soaking it all in.

“Here, I’ll show you another, then you can practice on me, sound good?” the older man asked, eyebrow raised as he addressed Jesse.

“Yes, jefe,” Jesse replied, his enthusiasm causing him to accidentally slip into his old habit of speaking in “Spanglish”. Back in the gorge he always referred to his superior as “jefe”, it had simply become routine. When he realized he had let his tongue slip, Jesse looked worriedly towards the Commander, expecting to be reprimanded, but he only received an eye roll, the other man not seeming to mind the little nick name this time around.

“I want you to come at me again and I’m going to go step by step in my counter,” Commander Reyes instructed, returning to his fighting stance once again. Taking a deep breath, Jesse steadied himself, then propelled his body towards the Commander again, fully intent on throwing a punch that connected. To his surprise, however, the Commander managed to grab his wrist yet again, but instead of shoving him downwards, the Commander pivoted and pulled Jesse onto his shoulders, suspending Jesse an inch or two above the ground…then he just…stood there. Jesse was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat as his chest pressed against the Commander’s back, unable to touch the floor while the other man held a firm grip on his right arm, the smell of soap and mint filling his nostrils from being in such close proximity to Commander Reyes.

“So, what I did there was redirect your momentum to pull you onto my back,” the Commander began, his voice rumbling through the thick material of his hoodie and directly against Jesse’s ribcage.

“Usually, I would have continued the movement, throwing you over my shoulder and onto your backside,” he continued, seemingly completely unaffected by the fact the he was dangling Jesse over his back like a sack of potatoes.

“Uh huh,” Jesse replied dumbly, still trying to process what was happening. This was not aided by the fact that Jesse happened to glance at the wall mirrors to see himself half hanging off of a man that was twice his size, said man looking absolutely unfazed at having to suspend Jesse several inches in the air.

“You gunna’ toss me or what?” Jesse questioned, his spirit only mildly dampened by the fact that he looked so much smaller compared to the Commander.

“No, I was just going to set you down. Why, you want me to throw you?” Commander Reyes asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turned his head to the side in an attempt to face Jesse.

“Well now I’m startin’ to think that without your precious momentum, you can’t actually do it,” Jesse leered, turning his head so that he was practically speaking into Reyes’ ear, which was hidden beneath his usual beanie.

A small huff was Jesse’s only warning before he found himself flung over the Commander’s shoulder and on to the mat, his back slamming down with a loud thud that reverberated throughout the training room.

“M,hm,” Jesse hummed as he winced, his voice only slightly strained as shock rippled through out his body. The Commander squatted down beside Jesse, a smirk on his lips as he gazed down at him.

“You happy now?” the Commander asked, propping his elbow up on a knee and resting his chin in his palm, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Jesse snorted and sat up, pushing his long hair out of his face in an attempt to fix his ponytail.

“Oh yes’sir, thank you sir, so kind of you, sir,” Jesse replied sarcastically, earning a snort from the Commander as Jesse gesticulated from his place on the mat.

“Damn ingrate,” the older man huffed, grabbing a fistful of Jesse’s shirt before promptly hauling him upwards and onto his feet, Jesse huffing in indignation at being picked up like a ragdoll.

“Alright, now I want you to try to flip me. Remember, anticipate my attack, intercept it, then use my own movement against me to toss and pin me,” the Commander instructed, taking his fighting stance. Jesse looked over at him and balked.

“You want me…to throw you?” Jesse questioned disbelievingly, pointing to himself then the Commander incredulously. When the Commander simply nodded Jesse couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his hands into the air.

“You are puttin’ a lot of faith in my ability to lift…how much do you even weigh? As much as a fuckin’ truck?” Jesse asked, putting his hands on his hips as he raised one of his eyebrows incredulously.

“No, smart ass, I don’t weigh as much as a truck. Probably two-fifteen, give or take a couple pounds,” the Commander shrugged as he brought up his hands in a noncommittal gesture. Jesse threw his hands up again and huffed, shaking his head as the Commander stood by in mild amusement.

“What’s the matter, pendejo? Don’t tell me you’re running scared?” the Commander jeered, very obviously throwing Jesse a bone. A bone that he very quickly snatched up.

“We’ll see who’s scared when I throw your one ton ass on the floor,” Jesse snapped back, copying the Commander’s defensive stance. His competitive nature made Jesse momentarily forget that he probably shouldn’t be back mouthing his commanding officer but Reyes didn’t act like he minded, save a slight deepening of his usual scowl. Swallowing hard, Jesse steeled himself for the impending attack, determined to impress the man opposite him. The Commander’s eyes hardened and Jesse felt his narrow in return. He could do this.

The Commander lunged at Jesse and in response the young recruit quickly snatched the other man’s wrist and yanked it towards himself, all while pivoting in place in an attempt to toss the man over his shoulder. However, Jesse couldn’t seem to get the Commander over his own body, his legs suddenly canting to the side, causing him to lose his hold. As the younger man began to fall the Commander swiftly broke out of Jesse’s grip, wrapping an arm around Jesse’s middle before he hit the floor. Jesse felt heat creep up his neck as embarrassment began to set in, refusing to look at the Commander as he stood and righted himself. He expected the Commander to laugh, maybe even reprimand him for failing, but was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder instead.

“Not bad for a first try. Your issue was that you didn’t bend your knees low enough, that’s why you couldn’t get me over your shoulder. Let’s go again, remember to get low when I go high,” the Commander instructed simply, turning to take his position again. Jesse’s lips parted in slight astonishment, watching the man’s back as he crossed the mat. Jesse was so sure the domineering commander would have scolded him, humiliated him, something to show that Jesse had fucked up and wasn’t worth his time. Violence and pain were all Jesse had ever known when it came to failure. Instead though…the Commander just gave some advice and dropped it. Jesse took a deep breath and regained his stance, making sure his feet were wide and knees bent. He had to prove to this man the he was worth the trouble.

“You ready?”

That stern voice brought Jesse back to the present, and he nodded, determined to succeed this time. The Commander lunged at Jesse again, the young recruit quick to snatch the man’s wrist, and, this time, as he pivoted Jesse dropped low until he felt the Commander’s stomach press against his shoulder. He then shot upwards, continuing to pull the other man’s arm as hard and fast as he could. The Commander landed on the mat, not quite as violently as Jesse had, but his back hit the floor all the same. As quick as he could, Jesse dropped down and planted his knee on the center of the Commander’s chest, attempting to pin him, while he instinctively reached to his hip for a gun that wasn’t there. Realizing his mistake, Jesse simply folded his hand into a “finger gun” and pointed it at the Commander’s temple, popping his lips as he cocked his hand backwards to indicate firing, beaming when the Commander smirked.

“Good job, pendejo. The gun was a nice touch,” the Commander remarked, sarcastic amusement laced throughout his last comment. Jesse grinned cheekily and stood, offering his hand to the Commander as the other man had done for him. The Commander’s large hand engulfed Jesse’s as he helped the other man up, and Jesse could feel the heat from his skin through the fingerless training gloves that Commander Reyes always wore. Now that he thought about it, when Jesse had been pressed against the Commander’s back the other man had been radiating heat, even through his thick hoodie. Maybe he was just…hot natured.

“Alright, you know a couple basic counters, they weren’t perfect, but you should be able to practice them now at the least. Let’s move on to breaking out of a hold,” the Commander instructed, Jesse offering an eager “yessir” in return.

“Do you know the basics of breaking out of a hold?” the Commander asked, taking a swig of his water as he waited for Jesse to answer.

“Always aim to break out where there are weak points, like the wrist or where the fingers meet the thumb,” Jesse offered, pushing some of his now sweat dampened hair out of his face. Nodding, the Commander sat his water bottle down and strode over towards Jesse, causing the younger recruit to try to stand a bit straighter in the other man’s presence.

“Good, pretty bare bones, but good. I’m going to put you in some lighter holds and I want you to try to break out of them, then maybe you can try some holds on me,” the Commander offered, rolling his shoulders as he addressed Jesse. The younger man offered a hum of acknowledgement, not terribly excited about the prospect of being pinned but he understood it was integral to his training.   

“So, there are two types of choke holds, do you remember what they are?” the Commander questioned, Jesse thanking the stars that he had actually paid attention during the demonstration.

“There’s an air choke and a blood choke,” he responded, feeling a surge of pride when the Commander nodded.

“And which do we focus on?”

“Blood, air chokes can take minutes before the hostile is incapacitated, blood chokes work in about fifteen to twenty seconds,” Jesse responded.

“If done correctly,” the Commander amended, stepping towards Jesse as he grabbed the left side of the younger man’s collar with his right hand, then crossed that hand over to the opposite side, pulling Jesse’s shirt collar across his throat. Nervousness surged through Jesse as he felt the Commander’s knuckles press against his neck, feeling on odd pressure inside of his throat.

“Can you feel that? Something uncomfortable in your throat where I’m touching you?” the Commander questioned quietly, his eyes scanning Jesse’s face, causing the young man’s nervousness to spike.

“Yes,” Jesse responded softly, the pressure from the Commander’s knuckles increasing ever so slightly, causing him to swallow anxiously.

“What I’m doing is applying compression to your carotid artery with my knuckles, which supplies blood flow to the brain, as opposed to an air choke, where I would be applying pressure to the trachea to cut off air flow,” the Commander informed him. “This is a frontal choke, and your goal is to apply as much steady pressure to this artery as possible, cutting off your opponents blood flow, causing them to faint. If you do it correctly, they should pass out within twenty seconds,” Commander Reyes finished as he grabbed the other side of Jesse’s collar and crossed his wrists, knuckles digging even deeper into Jesse’s neck as the fabric encircled his throat.

“Sir?” Jesse questioned anxiously as the pressure continued to mount, but the Commander just gave him a reassuring look.

“Don’t worry, pendejo, I’m not going to complete the choke. I just want you to look at my form. What am I doing?” the Commander asked Jesse quietly, his knuckles pressing a bit more gently against Jesse’s throat.

“Ah, your, uh, your right hand his against the left side of my neck, holdin’ my shirt collar, knuckle side down,” Jesse began, trying to ignore the odd sensation of the Commander’s gloved hand against his skin. “Your left hand has my other collar and is crossed over your right, formin’ an X,” he finished, looking up to the other man hopefully, feeling another little wave of pride when the Commander nodded.

“Good, remember to cross your wrists and apply steady pressure with the knuckles. Now I’ll show you how to break out of this hold. You’ll need to be quick, but all you have to do is grab the inside of my right elbow and push downwards, utilizing the weak point where the joint is, while also pushing my chin away with your right hand. A more advanced move involves foot work but we can go over all that another time,” he instructed, nodding to Jesse that he wanted him to try it. Jesse swallowed nervously, still very aware of the hand resting against his throat almost menacingly, and steeled himself. Bringing both his arms up swiftly, Jesse clasped Commander Reyes’ inner elbow and wrenched it downwards, forcing the man’s hand’s off of his shirt. While he was working on the Commander’s right arm Jesse brought his hand up and pressed his palm against Reyes’ chin, feeling the course hairs of the man’s beard against his skin as he shoved him backwards. The older man stepped back and nodded approvingly, causing Jesse’s face to heat up ever so slightly at the praise.

“Let’s do some more practice. Focus on parrying and countering,” the older man instructed, and Jesse quickly took a defensive position, ready to aggressively throw himself into the exercise. The two began, the Commander throwing punches and attempting to grapple Jesse, the younger man doing his damnedest to deflect each attack, dodging and evading as best he could.

Time seemed to slip by, completely forgotten, as Jesse continued his training, his muscles slowly beginning to strain as his sweat slicked body collided with the Commander’s over and over again. He didn’t care though, Jesse could feel himself becoming more agile, more knowledgeable. He could parry away the majority of the Commander’s attacks and even manage to counter a few when he was fast enough. It was more than likely that the Commander was going easy on him but the practice was making Jesse more confident in his abilities all the same. He must have gotten a bit too cocky however, maybe even sloppy, for when he threw a jab towards the Commander the other man swiftly grappled him, batting Jesse’s arms away from his body before forcing him down, Jesse’s back slamming against the mat with a loud thud as the Commander quickly sank down on top of him. A heavy weight settled across Jesse’s middle as the Commander pinned him, the other man’s knees firmly planted on either of Jesse’s biceps, inhibiting him from moving his arms, Reyes’ substantial mass preventing him from bucking up and escaping. Jesse was thoroughly trapped.

An odd sense of Déjà vu washed over him as Jesse lie there panting, hair a mess, chest rising up to meet the insides of the Commander’s large thighs, his arms immobile above his head as the lights shone down, casting Reyes’ face in harsh shadow as a faux halo formed above his head. Sweat slid down Jesse’s temple to disappear beneath his hairline as he stared up at the man above him, his breaths coming out in harsh pants while the Commander’s chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm it had since the sparring session began. Racking his brain for something clever to quip, Jesse found himself coming up blank, too fixated in the intense gaze of the Commander to properly formulate words. The Commander was so terribly close that Jesse swore he could smell the lilac fabric softener he washed his shorts in, Reyes’ legs only a couple inches from either side of his face. Eyes locked, Jesse found himself overcome with a wave a nervousness as the Commander continued to stare down at him with that same intense scrutiny, seemingly searching for something within the depths of Jesse’s eyes, something he was desperately trying to find. The air felt alive with electricity as adrenaline still thrummed through Jesse’s veins, only amplifying the anxiousness mounting in his gut as the Commander continued his penetrating stare, those piercing hazel eyes never once straying from Jesse’s as his weight settled deeper and deeper into Jesse’s abdomen. He watched, mesmerized, as the Commander took a deep breath above him, his chest filling out slowly before quickly falling as the Commander let out a harsh breath, the tension in the room suddenly dissipating as his hazel eyes finally broke away from Jesse’s.

“That’s enough for tonight, you need to get some sleep,” the Commander grunted, swiftly rising up and off of Jesse’s chest, allowing Jesse to gulp down a breath of air as the other man stood to his feet. Jesse’s sweat slicked palms slid against the polished flooring as he pushed himself up in a sitting position, his biceps stinging as the imprints of Reyes’ knees remained indented and reddened against his skin. Muscles suddenly feeling overtaxed, Jesse rose on shaky limbs, watching as the Commander nonchalantly took a swig from his water bottle then tucked it back into his bag from across the small room.

Walking on shaky legs, Jesse made his way over to the bench as well and grabbed his towel, bringing it to his face before pushing it back into his damp hair, mussing the cloth over his tresses before shaking his head and flipping his hair out of his face, his ponytail long dismantled. Glancing over, Jesse saw the Commander watching him with a bemused face, one eyebrow arched until it was almost hidden beneath his beanie, a smug expression on his lips.

“What?” Jesse bit out defensively, hoping his face was still flushed from the training as to mask his creeping embarrassment.

Giving a dry chuckle, the Commander replied, “You need a haircut…and a shower.” Jesse immediately bristled at that, feeling heat flare up beneath his cheeks as the Commander regarded him with a raised brow and disdainful expression.

“What, did you expect me to smell like roses, you worked us for hours today!” Jesse retorted, putting one hand on his hip while the other gesticulated irately with his towel. When he only received a huff as a response Jesse continued,

“Did you expect me to be like you and shower before I came here? Say, what’s up with that anyways, why the hell did you bathe _before_ the workout?”

The Commander, previously packing his gym bag, paused and turned to Jesse, a slight smirk replacing his usual frown.                      

“Because I knew you couldn’t make me break a sweat,” he replied evenly, expression as unmoved as ever. Jesse’s jaw slackened as he watched the Commander swiftly finish packing then sling his bag over his shoulder, promptly exiting the training room with a soft click of the door. It was a solid few seconds before Jesse blinked and shook his head, stunned into momentary silence by the Commander’s retort.         

“Knew he wouldn’t break a sweat…he, that, he knew I couldn’t make him break a sweat?!” Jesse hissed to himself as he began angrily stuffing his remaining items into his bag, irately tugging on the drawstrings before jerking the bag off the bench before leaving the room with an aggravated huff`. As Jesse stalked down the hallway and back towards his room he muttered out an unbroken string of disbelieving curses, some of them directed at him self, most of them directed at Commander Reyes. He had to give his Commander one thing, he was a ballsy bastard. Promptly hopping in the shower, Jesse scrubbed himself vigorously, still growling out half hearted curses at his smart ass Commander, even as his throat still burned where he had touched Jesse.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                            “And…break!”

            Gabe scanned the room of recruits, watching as they broke apart from their various holds and pins, wiping sweat off their brows and shaking out their limbs as they rose to face him.

            “That concludes this training session, give me five laps then hit the equipment,” Gabe called out, overseeing his agents as they all broke out into a jog towards the expansive track field. As the recruits all began their laps Gabe found his eyes wandering to follow a single person’s back, hazel gaze locked on their form as they sprinted down the field. The kid…McCree, had made an almost astonishing improvement since their little training session. During the previous exercises McCree had consistently grappled his fellow agents to the ground, all while avoiding being pinned himself. If someone did manage to pin him, McCree would aggressively break the hold and turn on his opponent, tackling them to the ground until they submitted. It was…almost concerning, the ferocity in McCree’s movements. When they were training, Gabe had been sure not to use his full strength, his aim hadn’t been to hurt the kid, just teach him the moves. The kid, however, had no such reservations. He would relentlessly throw his opponents to the mat and Gabe had to intervene several times whenever McCree would manage to get another agent in a choke hold, just to insure that the kid didn’t actually cause his opponent to faint. The kid was merciless.

            Gabe couldn’t help but feel a trill of excitement at that.

            Seeing how well McCree took to his training, seeing how completely vicious and brutal he was in combat, it was a thrilling prospect. On that burning roof in that hellscape of a gorge, Gabe knew he saw potential in that kid’s eyes, the murderous glint hidden beneath his teary gaze too good to let die in that desert. However, Gabe hadn’t dared to hope that the kid could be so easily malleable with such raw potential. He was a diamond in the rough and now, more than ever, Gabe was determined to polish him until he was a priceless weapon at his disposal. An invaluable asset, not only to him, but to Overwatch.

            The training session continued on without further incident and as the hours passed and the sun began to dim Gabe dismissed the recruits so they could shower and prepare for dinner. As he was walking towards the gymnasium doors, holopad in hand, Gabe couldn’t help but overhear a small group of recruits muttering amongst themselves as they made their way to the exit. While he couldn’t make out every word, his hearing wasn’t quite that acute, he certainly got the gist of the passing conversation.

            “Did you see the way McCree...?”

            “…terrifying, I don’t like…”

            “…heard he should be in a maximum prison…”

            “I don’t trust him.”

            Pausing in his walk, Gabe watched the recruits pass by him, frown deepening ever so slightly. The other recruits being fearful or resentful of McCree was always a concern of his but Gabe had really hoped that his agents wouldn’t be too terribly bothered by the kid’s background. Oh well, that really wasn’t his problem. The agents trusted him and would follow his orders, that was all he needed. If they didn’t get along that was their prerogative.

            Gabe swung by his office, answered some emails, grabbed a few files then headed towards his private quarters, eyes fixated on his holopad the whole walk. While Gabe had always yearned for a leadership position, perhaps even felt owed one, he really hated all the paperwork that came with it. Almost every bit of time he had aside from missions was devoted to answering emails, fixing schedules, and otherwise being glued to a screen. It was tiring…and it wasn’t what Gabe had envisioned for himself when he had helped set about the creation of Overwatch. It was his job, though, and Gabe always saw things through to the end. Even if it killed him.

Letting out a small sigh, Gabe lowered his holopad long enough to let his door scanner examine his face, the metal doors sliding open silently when the AI recognized him. Tugging his hoodie over his head, Gabe tossed the garment onto his large bed, followed by his shirt, the cool air hitting his bare skin in a wonderfully refreshing way. As he stood there, half undressed, he glanced towards the bathroom contemplatively. He hadn’t really worked up a sweat today but a shower never hurt…

            While he was deciding on whether or not to bathe, Gabe heard his personal phone chime, an unusual occurrence since not many people had his number, let alone clearance to contact him. A little flame of nervousness flickered in his stomach as Gabe made his way over to his desk to grab his cell, some naïvely optimistic part of his mind hoping it was from Jack, another part fearing it. His mind was somewhat set at ease when he saw Ana’s name on the screen and Gabe quickly flicked his thumb across the phone and opened up his texts.

           

_Gabriel, Jack just messaged me and asked that I accompany him to your base, we are on a ship now, heading your way. I have a feeling it is about your little pet project. Just thought I’d warn you._

“Fuck,” Gabe hissed, bitterly tossing his phone onto his bed as he yanked his beanie off of his scalp, carding a gloved hand through his hair. Jack was coming here? Now? Why hadn’t he just contacted Gabe himself, it wasn’t like Gabe would have refused a visit. Heaving a tired sigh, Gabe tugged his hoodie back over his head, not bothering with an undershirt. Trudging to the bathroom, Gabe ran the faucet and began splashing water against his face, deciding to at least put a little effort into his appearance since Jack would be seeing him. Toweling himself off, Gabe couldn’t help but groan into the thick cloth, unable to quell his anxiousness and annoyance.

            Jack and Gabe’s relationship was Overwatch’s worst kept secret, if you were in any way affiliated with the organization, you knew of the tumultuous affiliation between the two commanders. It irritated Gabe to no end that his…relationship with Jack was so well known, but no one dared to mention it, especially not to his face. Guess that was one of the perks of being a commanding officer who was somewhat dating the Strike Commander.

            Gabe’s mind soured at that… _Strike Commander_ …fuck that. That position was the reason Jack and Gabe had fallen into the state they were in now, Gabe wasn’t even sure he could call it a partnership. There had been a time when he and Jack had been madly in love, even tossing the word marriage back and forth on a few occasions. Now though…it felt like all they did was argue. Even when they weren’t fighting, there was no passion. Kisses felt hollow, touches held no warmth, and Gabe honest to Gods could not remember the last time they had sex, it had to have been months. And yet the two were both too stubborn to give up, both of them desperately clinging to some semblance of a romantic partnership even as it slowly continued to entropy away into nothingness. Resigning himself to whatever was to come, Gabe decided to make his way to the tarmac to greet his unannounced guests.

He had to admit, Jack still looked damned good. The wind from the jet hadn’t yet died down as Jack jumped onto the landing strip, his trademark blue trench coat whipping behind him as his blond hair was blown about into an attractive disarray, his large frame illuminated by the aircraft lights. As Gabe approached the jet Jack’s piercing blue eyes met his and Gabe felt a small wave of relief when he didn’t see any anger or contempt hidden beneath those stormy irises. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a fight tonight.

“Gabriel, it is so good to see you,” Ana called over the whir of the dying jet engines, briskly approaching Gabe with open arms, a small smile on her lips. Gladly excepting her hug, Gabe wrapped his arms around Ana’s smaller form and buried his face into her shoulder, taking in her scent, a lovely mix of tea spices and jasmine. While his relationship with Jack was strained, Gabe always seemed to find solace in Ana. She was admittedly closer to Jack than she was to him but she was till a dear friend to Gabe, and he hoped that never changed. Ana would always be on his list of loved ones. Pulling away from Ana, Gabe drew his eyes upwards to meet Jack’s, taking in his somber yet somewhat awkward expression. They didn’t embrace. Doing his best not to grimace, Gabe turning his attention back to Ana only to notice the sniper bag peeking over her shoulder.

“You planning on getting some work done?” Gabe asked quizedly, raising an eyebrow as he regarded the weapon with slight smirk. A small smile graced Ana’s lips as she looked almost bashfully back at Gabe.

“I was thinking that I could sneak off to the weapon range…and maybe take your little cowboy with me,” Ana replied, her onyx eyes alight with mischief. Jack made a sound of disdain behind her and a scowl began overtaking his features.

“Tch, he’d be over the moon, I’m sure,” Gabe replied dryly, trying not to imagine the dumb look on McCree’s face if he saw that Ana was here. It was then a thought crossed his mind and Gabe slanted his eyes towards Jack, brow furrowing.

“Did you come here just to see the kid shoot?” he questioned, irritation beginning to lace through his thoughts. Those blue eyes iced over as Jack met his gaze, his scowl deepening.

“I just want to see what exactly I’m having to stick my neck so far out for. I don’t enjoy having to lie to the United Nations, you know,” Jack bit out, his fists curling then relaxing, as if Jack was having to remind himself to calm down. Unable to quell his irritation, Gabe sucked his teeth in response, feeling a scowl beginning to form across his face.   Gabe had told Jack that he had this under control, why couldn’t he ever just…trust him? As if sensing the mounting tension, Ana gently placed her hand on Gabe’s arm and cleared her throat softly.  

“It’s just that I’ve been telling him how impressed I was with his shooting, he wanted to see it for himself,” she placated, running her hand along Gabe’s arm soothingly. Meeting her eyes and seeing the silent plea begging him to just let it go, Gabe sighed and held up his wrist, speaking into his watch while doing the best to tamp down his ever rising frustration towards Jack and his lack of communication.

“Athena, where is agent McCree?” he asked as placidly as he could, feeling more than seeing the relief wash over Ana as she stood quietly at his side.

“Agent McCree has just arrived at the package center,” the almost melodic voice chimed back.

“Ah, that’s close to where we are, yes? Let’s intercept him,” Ana suggested through a mischievous smile, already striding across the tarmac and towards the entrance of the base. Leaving Jack and Gabe together. Silently, the two simultaneously took a step and began following after Ana, a heavy conversation neither of them wanted to have hanging in the air above them. They had almost made it to their destination without a single word passing between them when Gabe heard Jack take a small breath, the tension drawing taught then snapping instantaneously.

“Gabe, I-“

“You could have called me,” Gabe cut in, his voice fire to match Jack’s ice. Regret instantly coursed up Gabe’s spine and he wished he could have just held his tongue but he was just so…so frustrated with this tension with Jack and he was just tired. So damn tired of dancing around things and pretending like his relationship with Jack wasn’t balancing on the tip of a needle, held upright with nothing short of foolhardy stubbornness and a prayer. Jack didn’t respond at first, save for swallowing thickly and biting his lip, a brief flash of guilt ghosting across his stony face then disappearing, mask back in place.

“…After this…can we talk?” Jack asked softly, his pale blue eyes watching Gabe from the side, an unreadable expression swimming beneath his stormy irises.

“’This’? What is ‘this’, Jack? You not trusting me to train one god damn agent and showing up to my base to what, oversee me? Is that what ‘this’ is?” Gabe shot back incredulously, turning his head to look into Jack’s eyes for the first time since they entered the building. Sighing, Jack tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, an absolutely exasperated look on his face, that expression seeming to age him so much in that moment. Seeing how tired Jack looked, Gabe downcast his eye to his boots and took a deep breath, trying to settle his emotions before they made a scene.

“After you see whatever it is you want to see we can go talk,” Gabe conceded quietly, brining his head back up as he stared ahead, watching Jack only through the corner of his eye. A small sigh sounded beside him, Jack letting out a quiet huff of relief.                                  

“Thank you,” he replied softly. Before the two could continue their conversation, Ana sprung up between them, tightly grabbing them by the arms respectfully.

“There he is!” she hissed excitedly, turning the two men’s attention down the hallway where they saw McCree meandering past, a box and a couple of small packages in hand. It was fairly late in the evening now, nearing ten thirty, and it seemed McCree had already dawned his sleeping gear, a pair of dark gray sweats and a white wife beater, his shower sandals padding softly against the tiled floor as he hummed quietly to himself, seemingly unaware that he was now being stalked by a very excited sniper and her two unwitting cohorts.

“Do either of you have a pen?” Ana asked quietly as she crept forwards, her smile akin to a foxes. Gabe raised an eyebrow but reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, wordlessly handing it to Ana who quickly snatched it from his grasp and raised her hand over her head. Realizing what was about to happen, Gabe snorted and crossed his arms.                

“Two hundred bucks says you can’t nail him in the back of his head,” Gabe muttered softly, Ana’s grin widening as she crouched, positioning herself into an optimal throwing position.

“Deal,” she whispered, onyx eyes locked on the back of McCree’s skull.            Just as Ana was about to hurl the pen, McCree abruptly stopped humming, his whole body snapping alert, almost like a dog that caught a scent. He paused in his stroll and drew his shoulders up, resting his packages against his hip as he looked around the hallways, dark eyes scanning for anything suspicious.

“What the hell are we doing-“ Jack began to hiss but Ana was quick to put her palm over his mouth after tugging the two commanders behind a corner to avoid being seen by the kid.

“He sensed me…” Ana said quietly after a moment, a hint of awe in her voice as she peered around the corner to scope out the situation. Gabe had to admit, he was impressed with that too. Turns out he hadn’t been talking out of his ass when he told the kid that he had good instincts. Leaning down, Gabe brushed a stray lock of hair away from Ana’s ear and whispered,

“You owe me two hundred bucks.” Ana pouted as she shot Gabe a look, huffing, then she whipped around the corner, hurling the pen at a startling velocity.

“Ow, the fuck?!” came a cry from down the hall, that deep southern drawl indisputably coming from McCree.     Hanging his head, Gabe sighed, catching Ana’s smirk as she looked back over her shoulder.

“Who the hell-“ McCree began to seethe but the words died in his throat and turned into something like a squeak when he saw Ana standing proudly with her hands on her hips, Gabe and Jack following her around the corner to see the kid with a light blush blooming across his face.

“Hello there, cowboy, did you miss me?” Ana cooed, causing McCree’s blush to deepen a few shades darker.       

“Like the desert misses the rain,” McCree replied in a slightly dazed voice, a smile threatening to split his face as he shamelessly looked Ana up and down. Gabe let his own eyes ghost up Ana’s body, taking in her chunk heeled black boots laced up to her knee, overlapping tight black jeans and outlining her legs, taught with muscle. A black bomber jacket lined with orange strips of leather adorned her broad shoulders, a relic from her time in the Egyptian military, the material showing a bit of wear and frays in certain areas. Beneath the jacket was a thin white t shirt, Ana’s abdominal muscles just barely visible beneath fabric as she moved. Top it all off with a waterfall of shimmering black hair and smoldering eye makeup embellishing deep, mischievous eyes. Giving a little snort, Gabe supposed he couldn’t really blame the kid for being smitten. Ana was a head turner…and a neck snapper, but that was unrelated.

Drawing his eyes upwards, Gabe felt his jaw slacken as he watched McCree take Ana’s hand in his own and bow his head, placing a gentle kiss against her knuckles, McCree eyeing her from beneath his thick lashes as his lips brushed against her skin. Immediately, Ana’s cheeks tinted rose, her eyes widening as Gabe balked, unable to speak, while Jack emitted a strangled sound of alarm from behind him, something between a garbled choke and a gasp.

“My, Miss Amari, you’re lookin’ prettier than rose in bloom,” McCree murmured with a smile as he stood, bringing Ana’s hand upwards with him so his lips still brushed against her knuckles as he spoke. Again, another strangled sound of dismay from Jack. The kid’s eyes slanted from Ana’s face to Gabe’s and for some reason Gabe felt himself bristle as McCree’s half lidded gaze met his, straightening up his back a bit as the kid’s eyes bored into him. Then, never breaking eye contact, McCree brought Ana’s hand to his lips once more and placed another gentle kiss to her skin, a coy smirk on his lips.

“Oh my, such a charmer,” Ana commented with a soft laugh, the kid’s eyes finally leaving Gabe’s to rest on Ana’s face, a flirtatious smile replacing his smirk.

“Mm, I’m hopin’ to charm you into my bed-“

“That’s enough,” Jack cut in, a scowl on his face as he shouldered his way in front of Gabe and in between the kid and Ana.     

“Ana is a Captain of Overwatch and you need to treat her with respect,” Jack instructed with a snarl, like he was addressing one of his green recruits in Overwatch. Gabe watched, intrigued, as McCree’s sly smile slowly faded into a subdued scowl, his dark eyes meeting Jack’s without wavering. Gabe could see the gears turning in McCree’s head, could see the kid was trying to formulate some smart ass remark as he squared up to Jack. Really not wanting to deal with that tonight, Gabe quietly cleared his throat and shifted to one side, the movement catching McCree’s eye, his gaze drifting momentarily from Jack to Gabe. Screwing his face into an even deeper scowl, Gabe shot McCree a warning look, his message silent but very clear.

_Don’t you dare embarrass me._

Eyes widening, McCree swallowed and lowered his eyes submissively, almost pouting as he took a step away from Jack, looking akin to a scolded dog. Seeing the shift in mood, Ana pushed Jack out of the way, shooting him an icy frown, and gestured to the packages under McCree’s arm.

“Got some goodies I see. Care to share, I’m curious as to what you ordered,” Ana questioned, readjusting the gun slung over her shoulder as she addressed the kid, his face immediately lighting up again as Ana graced him with her attention.    

“Ah, just some essentials,” he replied with a smirk, tossing one of the larger boxes towards Ana who caught in and inspected it curiously, her eyes scanning the label before she burst out in a peal of laughter.

“Of course you would buy a cowboy hat,” she jested, handing the box back to McCree, the kid smiling bashfully at her remark.

“Well I lost my other one in…ah…well, I needed a new one,” McCree amended quickly when Ana’s face fell at the mention of where he had misplaced his last hat.

 _Ah yeah, that’s right,_ Gabe thought to himself retrospectively, _he was wearing a hat during the Deadlock raid. Guess that’s where he lost it…_            

“And what else do you have?” Gabe asked suspiciously, eyeing the other smaller packages beneath the kid’s arms, hoping to get Ana’s mind off of the Deadlock sting. Shrugging casually, the kid avoided Gabe’s eyes which only made Gabe even more uneasy.

“Like I said, essentials. Some smokes and some Jack…you know, the fun kind,” McCree replied nonchalantly, throwing a snide comment and a side eye towards Jack at the end. Gabe couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. He managed not to snort but he couldn’t contain his small smirk…this kid had guts.

“You’re not old enough to drink,” Jack chided, his frown deepening as he eyed the boxes worriedly, earning a completely deadpan stare from the kid.

“Mhm…yeah, well, I feel like if I’m old enough to be roped into this military operation then I’m old enough to drink. Eighteen is plenty old enough,” McCree retorted, resting his free hand on his hip as he tipped his chin up towards Jack in a confrontational manner. Gabe shot the kid a seething glare and immediately the kid lowered his stance, eyes shifting to the floor reluctantly as he shifted the packages on his hip.

“I won’t do nothin’ stupid, I just like a little drink every now and then…sir,” the kid mumbled, quickly adding the sir when he caught Gabe’s eye, although it seemed adding that suffix physically pained him.

“Gabe-“ Jack started but Gabe simply held up a hand, signaling that he was not about to have this conversation.

“One bottle of whiskey isn’t going to hurt, he’s done far worse I’m sure. Besides, he knows better than to do something that would reflect poorly on me,” Gabe stated, narrowing his eyes threateningly at the kid as he spoke. McCree seemed to get the message and simply gave a stiff nod, his big brown eyes widening before averting to the floor compliantly.

“Hmm…well we’ll see,” Jack grumbled, not looking at all convinced but he didn’t argue so Gabe chalked that up to small miracles.

“Shall we head to the training range?” Ana asked, ushering the kid forwards while casting a chastising glance back at the two commanders.

“The shootin’ range?” the kid asked excitedly, his whole face lighting up as he looked down at Ana. The Captain simply nodded as she pressed the boy further, guiding him down the halls and around corners. Gabe had to admit that he was a bit surprised that Ana knew his base so well considering she really didn’t come here that often. He was almost touched.

“Gabriel?”

“Mm?” Gabe hummed in response, gaze snapping to Ana’s face as she addressed him.

“Could you please have Jesse’s gun brought to the range?” she asked, her expression something a little to hard to read but it seemed almost apologetic. Gabe simply grunted in response and glanced down to his hollo-watch and quietly issued some commands, making sure to have the kid’s gun waiting for them when the group arrived.

“I don’t see why I just can’t keep it with me…” Gabe heard McCree mumble dejectedly, a small pout on his lips as he padded along next to Ana.

“Recruits are not permitted to be in possession of any class of firearms before completing basic training,” Jack chided methodically, his brows knitting in concern at the notion of McCree running loose with a gun.

“Of course…” the kid muttered under his breath, looking absolutely exasperated, but, to his credit, the boy managed not to run his mouth back at Jack. The group continued on the short walk to the training range, Ana and McCree chattering up front while Jack and Gabe followed behind…silently. Eventually they arrived at the range, Gabe stepping forth to slide his keycard into the door. As his shoulder brushed against McCree’s he felt the kid stiffen at his side, standing completely rigid as if he was too frightened to move. Cutting his gaze to the side, Gabe found the kid staring up at him, his auburn eyes wide with nervousness or fear, before quickly averting to the floor. A small pang of guilt pervaded Gabe’s thoughts as he slid his keycard and began inputting the door code, the minute mechanical clicks ringing out in the silence of the hall. He didn’t like to dwell on it, but if Gabe was being honest with himself, he had arguably ruined this kid’s life. Uprooted it, at the very least. Blackwatch had been the organization to gather information on Deadlock and mount a strike, Gabe had arrested the kid then, honestly speaking, all but forced him to join Blackwatch, the very group that had abducted him. That was some cruel irony in itself. Then he kept the kid under lock and key, not really allowing him any amenities at the base, other than smoking but that was so he didn’t have to deal with panic attacks and being a hypocrite didn’t really sit well with Gabe. The kid probably was scared of him.

Drawing a shallow breath, just before unlatching the door, Gabe turned his head and caught the kid’s eyes once more. McCree quickly averted his eyes again so Gabe gently pressed his elbow into the kid’s side, hoping to get his attention.

“Hey…,” Gabe murmured, quiet enough so that he was sure Ana, and hopefully Jack, couldn’t hear. After a short beat of stillness, the kid titled his head towards Gabe, his honey hued eyes nervously meeting Gabe’s gaze.

“Relax,” Gabe instructed softly, taking in the way the kid’s pupils dilated when he spoke, “you’re fine.” As Gabe swung the large metal doors open he felt the kid stiffen at his side again before taking a deep breath and letting it out in a quiet sigh.

“Okay,” came a hoarse whisper and with that Gabe ushered the little group inside. Shots rang out methodically as a few straggling recruits were firing off on the course, their sleep schedules permanently disturbed by missions or perhaps because they were unable to sleep due to insomnia or some other haunting nighttime sickness. It always seemed that someone was roaming the Blackwatch base, no matter the time. Sleep is for the dead, as they say. Ana began dolling out earplugs to the group while Gabe marched forth and clapped his hands loudly, the sound echoing throughout the large enclosure.

“Alright, I need you all to scram, I’m running an evaluation,” Gabe barked out, the recruits popping out their earplugs obediently to listen. Their eyes strayed from Gabe to the figures behind him as the recruits began packing up their things, taking in Jack and Ana with a mix of disdain and admiration. Even though he couldn’t see where they were looking, Gabe could tell the exact moment the recruit’s eyes landed on McCree. All traces of admiration melted away into cold resentfulness and contempt. Something twisted in Gabe’s gut as he took in the harsh glares of his recruits. That was probably his fault too.

Still, they were all polite as they filtered out, offering their respects by endowing the titles “Commander, Strike Commander, Captain” respectively as they exited. Sighing, Gabe supposed he couldn’t really ask more of them than that. The wounds of the Deadlock bust were still too fresh to expect anything but animosity. Pushing the pervading thoughts of guilt to the back of his mind, Gabe strode over to one of the locked gun racks and unlatched it, searching for only a moment before he spotted the kid’s pistol, the design a bit too unique to miss. Taking it in his palm, Gabe truly inspected the weapon for the first time, the sleek onyx metal glinting under the glare of fluorescent lights, highlighting the ornate metalwork Torbjorn had crafted, the latticing running from the barrel, down the handle, to the gratuitous spur adorning the butt of the gun. So excessive. Still needed a scope though…Gabe would see to it that a laser scope was added before the kid’s first mission. No matter how good of a shot the kid was, Gabe had his doubts that he could shoot in the dark.

Turning back, gun in hand, Gabe strode over to where his little trio was waiting and watched as the kid’s entire face lit up, those honey hued eyes wide and bright and locked on to Gabe’s hand. As Jack watched on in guarded disdain, Gabe handed the gun over to McCree, the kid taking it gingerly in his hands, turning it over slowly while a feral grin slowly began forming in his lips. If Gabe could describe this kid as anything, he would label him as irreverent. Irreverent to rules, irreverent to authority, irreverent to him, but now, as McCree cradled the gun ever so gently in his palms, he looked akin to a pastor carrying sacred texts, holding something so cherished that even the notion of desecrating it would be obscene. The kid’s entire demeanor changed when he held that gun aloft and began spinning it between his fingers, deftly flipping the barrel open then closed, flicking the safety off and on again, shifting from confrontational and somewhat demure to confident and sure, an underlying air of danger just beneath the surface. Flicking his gaze over to Ana, Gabe noticed the hint of pride in her eyes as she watched McCree take a few strides forth and place himself at the edge of the range, closing the safety gate behind him with a clang. Jack simply watched on with an ill concealed scowl.

“So, uh, anything in particular I’m supposed to be doin’?” McCree called back, one of his dark brows arched in confusion as his gaze shifted between Ana and Gabe. Mouth tugging down into a frown, Gabe realized that _he_ didn’t know what they were there for either. This was Jack’s evaluation.

“Just eliminate the targets, no special instructions,” Ana called back, her dark eyes glancing to Jack before focusing back on the boy.

“Alright,” the kid drawled, widening his stance before settling into a relaxed position, hand hovering over the grip of his gun, the barrel tucked into his sweats which were sitting hap hazardously low on his lean hips. The heavy weight of the gun had tugged the kid’s waistband down so that one bare hipbone was peeking out from beneath his tank top, tan skin striking against the stark white fabric of his wife beater. Gabe drew his eyes away.

Ana strode over to the rooms control panel and began inputting the training settings while Gabe and Jack stood by watching, silently, as the kid wriggled his fingers over the handle of his gun in gleeful anticipation.

“Ready, Jesse?” Ana called over the whir of machines as the course began to take shape, the metal plates of the floor shifting to accommodate Ana’s instructions.

“Was born ready,” McCree drawled back haughtily, his usually casual manner long discarded in favor of frenzied excitement. Ana cut her eyes over to meet Gabe’s before drifting behind him, presumably meeting Jack’s gaze, and with that the course sprung to life in a clamor of shifting gears and mechanical clicks. Bots erupted from the floor and immediately began collapsing, some before they could even properly configure. Gabe felt his jaw slacken ever so slightly but blinked and quickly resealed his lips, drawing his eyes from the decimation of bots to the source of their destruction. The kid was firing off so quickly and efficiently that reloading his bullets took longer than actually aiming and firing. For such a slovenly and seemingly careless brat, he was deadly accurate not only with his shots, but how he handled his gun as well. Gabe watched in a mixture of fascination and scrutiny as the kid flicked the empty cylinder of his gun open and replaced the bullets near instantaneously, even as he dodged and rolled around the bots on the course. It had been a while since Gabe had seen the kid shoot…he had nearly forgotten why he fought so hard to keep him. Glancing to the side, Gabe saw Jack standing stock still, his eyebrows furrowed over his wide blown eyes, his usually stern face slackened with awe at the sight of the kid absolutely obliterating the course. A hot burst of pride and validation ran up Gabe’s back while he looked on at slack jawed Jack, a spiteful smirk forming on his lips. Possibly sensing Gabe’s disdainful gaze, Jack snapped his jaw shut and scowled over in his direction, Jack’s lips twisting into a resigned glower. Gabe turned back and huffed through his nose, drawing his eyes once again to the kid. Turns out Gabe hadn’t needed to say anything, Jack could still read him pretty well. Still, Gabe couldn’t help but still think it.

_I told you he was worth it._

Eventually, the inevitable happened and the kid had to stop his onslaught against the practice bots, desperately grasping at his ammo bag only to come up empty handed.

“I’m out’ta bullets!” the kid called, sounding absolutely devastated at the prospect of not being able to shoot anymore. Chuckling, Ana gestured for him to come back and, after a moment of hesitation, the kid begrudgingly obliged. Sandals padding lightly against the floor, McCree made his way up to the where the trio stood, cheeks still slightly flushed from excitement as he eyed Gabe tentatively from beneath his dark lashes. A small swell of pride rose up in Gabe’s chest as the kid submissively glanced up at him, silently asking for his approval. Well…the kid had certainly shut Jack up, Gabe supposed that was worthy of some praise.

“You looked good out there, kid, good job,” Gabe offered gruffly, a small smirk on his lips as he addressed McCree, very aware that Jack was disdainfully looking on at his side. Jack huffed beside him and Ana offered a soft laugh in response to Gabe’s words but the kid’s reaction was…odd. At first, it was what Gabe had expected. McCree flushed an even deeper red beneath his heavy smattering of freckles but an instant later the kid’s eyes widened, as if he was suddenly struck with a horrifying thought, before he quickly plastered a strained smile and shoved his hands in his sweatpants pockets. Smirk falling, Gabe couldn’t help but think that the kid’s reaction was…bizarre. Unwarranted, surely, all Gabe had done was compliment him on his shooting, why the wide-eyed look? Gaze still tracking McCree, Gabe took in the deep blush that still shaded the kid’s cheeks while his expression looked pained and…embarrassed? Arms stiff at his sides while his hands were balled in the pockets of his sweat pants, the kid was trying to put on a relaxed act but Gabe wasn’t buying it for a second. Eyes scanning down McCree’s body, Gabe still couldn’t figure out why the kid-

Suddenly Gabe’s eyes widened and he swallowed thickly, realization dawning on him as he couldn’t help but notice the ill concealed tent in the kid’s sweatpants. Oh. The kid had an erection. Feeling an abrupt hot wave of second hand embarrassment, Gabe quickly looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the bulge in the kid’s pants that he was so desperately trying to hide. Swallowing again, Gabe cleared his throat and crossed his arms, trying to act unfazed, which, honestly, was not the case. Gabe could feel light heat beginning to burn beneath the skin of his face, a telltale sign that he was blushing, if only a bit. He was just… caught off guard. Jack and Ana were muttering together over at the control console, no doubt discussing the kid’s results, oblivious to the awkward situation Gabe had found himself thrust into. Gabe winced…that was a terribly poor choice of words. But…why had it happened?

 _It could just be the adrenaline. Kid loves guns, gun got him excited,_ a voice in Gabe’s head reasoned simply, to which he could agree. Hell, Gabe couldn’t deny that a few missions had left him more than a little excited after the rush of a kill, body high on adrenaline, he could sympathize with the kid on that front. Still, even though he had a perfectly plausible and simple explanation to a problem that Gabe really shouldn’t still be focusing on, a small voice continued niggling in the back of his mind.

 _It happened when he spoke to you._ Gabe’s mouth twitched into a grimace. No, that wasn’t right, the kid had just noticed he was hard as he was talking to Gabe. Still, that little voice continued its silken whispering.

 _He got an erection because you praised him._ No, that couldn’t-

“So, ah, sir, did I do okay? Um, I was just wonderin’ if I um…if I’m in trouble or somethin’ on a count of the fact that I mouthed off, I’m sorry, I-“ A voice to his right suddenly grabbed Gabe’s attention, directing his gaze to the kid who was standing anxiously at his side, hands still shoved deep into his pockets. Gabe realized that the kid was still talking, well more like fretful rambling, though Gabe wasn’t hearing a thing the young recruit was saying.

“Kid.”

McCree stopped his nervous babbling and stared up at Gabe, blush still burning deeply beneath his skin. Gabe knew. Gabe knew what he was about to do was underhanded and unbecoming of a Commander but…he just had to test his theory. Leveling his eyes with McCree’s, Gabe met the kid’s trembling gaze unwaveringly.

“I’m not upset with you…I’m impressed. Like I said, you looked good out there,” Gabe soothed evenly, even as a quiet voice told him he was being manipulative. As if on cue, the kid’s doe eyes widened and then he quickly ducked his head, long hair hiding his expression from Gabe, not that he needed to see it in order to get a read on McCree. He had loved that bit of praise. Gabe didn’t allow his gaze to lower beyond McCree’s face.

“Thank you, sir,’” McCree murmured roughly, hands still buried deep in the pockets of his sweats, gun tucked in and riding so dangerously low on his hips. The room felt too warm, the situation was too tense.

 _He’s just high on adrenaline, Ana is here, he is excited, it has to be,_ Gabe rationalized in his head, thoughts racing in an attempt to normalize the bizarre situation.

“Gabriel.”

The sudden peal of Ana’s voice rang like a bell, cutting through the strange fog that had fallen over Gabe. He and the kid both turned their heads to Ana who was approaching them briskly, a smile on her face while Jack followed closely behind, looking less enthused.

“Jesse did an excellent job, as expected, passed the course with flying colors,” Ana praised, clapping a hand to the kid’s shoulder. McCree beamed.

“So you saw everything you needed to see?” Gabe asked, thankful for Ana’s timely interruption.

“Mm, yes, I believe so. Though I would like to keep Jesse here a bit, give him a bit more training.”

            As she spoke, Ana slung her gun off of her shoulder and into her hand, offering it to McCree who held it as if Ana had offered him her firstborn child. Jack scowled as McCree cradled Ana’s gun to his chest, his eyes absolutely alight with adoration. It was almost endearing to see. As Ana ushered McCree back over to the course and began typing into the configuration panel Jack strode over and stood by Gabe’s side, the two men watching as McCree raised the sniper rifle up to his shoulder.

            “So,” Gabe murmured, eyes never leaving the kid’s back,” are you satisfied now?” Jack remained silent for a while, the two watching as small bots began configuring at the end of the course only to fall immediately afterwards, no match for McCree’s trained eyesight, apparently no less deadly with a sniper rifle than with a pistol. After a moment Ana paused the course to correct McCree’s stance and to give a few quiet instructions, and it was only then that Jack replied.

            “You…you were right. He’s…better than I could have imagined,” Jack quietly conceded, his shoulders falling just a bit as if that admittance had somehow weakened him. Gabe quirked an eyebrow but decided not to boast about his choice to keep the kid. His marksman ship spoke volumes.

            “Can we go…talk?” It was so strange, hearing Jack’s voice in a soft and almost apologetic manor as opposed to his usual domineering commands, or even his charismatic public bravado. It crawled over Gabe’s skin, or maybe the room was too warm, or maybe he was just exhausted. Something made Gabe feel on edge and he needed to leave, needed to expel some energy, needed something.

            “Yeah, let’s go talk.”

 

 

            Jack gasped into Gabe’s mouth as their hips snapped sharply together, the sound resounding lewdly throughout Gabe’s apartment, clothes strewn across the floor in a hap hazardous trail from the door to the bed, discarded too desperately and too quickly to be cared about. The Commanders’ breaths mingled, hot and shallow as Gabe pinned Jack beneath him, their bodies colliding in a sweating uncoordinated mess, mattress dipping as the headboard creaked. This hadn’t been the plan.

            When the two had entered Gabe’s office it had been with the intent to discuss things. Their strained and dissolving relationship, mainly. Gabe had growled that Jack the only time Jack spent with him was micromanaging him, Jack had accused Gabe of showing too much lenience to McCree, and the arguments escalated from there. The entire time, Gabe still felt too warm. Things came to a head when Jack had seethed that Gabe could just fuck off for all he cared and Gabe had had enough. He pinned Jack against his desk, and kissed him roughly, brain buzzing with pent up aggression and desperate need for release. After a moment, his kiss was reciprocated, although not with as much enthusiasm as Gabe would have liked. He couldn’t complain though. It was better than nothing. Eventually the two stalked down to Gabe’s private quarters where things took an abrupt and sharp turn.

            Gabe just needed something to take the edge off, take away his stress. He needed something. Someone. Even as he hunched over and bore himself into Jack, his Commander, his friend, his _lover_ , Gabe still couldn’t shake the nervous buzzing energy in his chest. As childish as it sounded, this just wasn’t exciting. This was just…placation. Neither of them were going about this with any semblance of passion or enthusiasm and it just felt hollow. So fucking hollow. There wasn’t a thrill here, like passionately fucking someone into the mattress while they keened,or having your lover carve crescent moons into your skin as they moaned for more into your ear. It wasn’t like pinning someone beneath you to a mat and-

            Gabe groaned into Jack’s shoulder as he came, body trembling with effort and relief before he sank down into the bed, out of breath and coated in a light sheen of sweat. The warm buzz was still there, in his chest. It had been quieted, but it was still there, thrumming incessantly, but for what Gabe didn’t know.

Somewhere across the Blackwatch base Ana laughed softly from her perch by in a window at a text from Reinhart as she flipped through photos of her daughter. Even further away Jesse stepped out of a shower, face still flushed and right arm trembling, shaking somewhat as he tugged his clothes back on. After making it back to his room, his stresses now thoroughly washed down the shower drain, he opened his hollopad with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips, eyes drifting lazily over his notifications as his thumb flicked over his lighter. Jesse nearly choked on his fist inhale as he read then reread over an email from Administration.

 

_Report to meeting 2-B on the third floor for your mission briefing. You will be given instructions before flying out on the 21 st. _

_Commander Reyes_

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof.
> 
> Any comments would be appreciated, especially constructive criticism.  
> Retribution really changed my perspective on who Gabe was before he became The Reaper. He was so sarcastic and funny, it was really nice and bittersweet to see that side of him.  
> Jesse is still young which is why I keep writing him as smaller than Gabe, he hasn't gained that hunk body yet lol.  
> Tune in next time for Jesse's first mission and maaaaaaaybe a ninja. I don't know, haven't decided yet lol.  
> Thank you for comments and kudos, see you in a few moooooooonthsssssssssssssssssssssss


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